Meant To Be Yours
by Tigerwalk
Summary: Sequel to Right Where We're Supposed To Be. Rick and Michonne and all of TF a few years later.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Hi everyone, here is chapter one of the sequel to Right Where We're Supposed To Be. If you haven't read that yet, this story will make a whole lot more sense if you do :). Thanks for reading!

xxxxxx

"Tell me somethin', man," Daryl said, as he stared out of the windshield of their cruiser at the bright summer sun, while hour number nine of their shift ticked by on the clock. "You ever wonder why women say they don't want you to do anything special for some event, like a birthday or anniversary or whatever, but they really do. Like it's some kinda test?"

Rick snickered to himself at his partner's question. In all the years he knew him, Daryl never had trouble getting a date, but maintaining a steady relationship was proving to be a humbling experience for him. "I don't know," Rick answered, innocuously. He knew the conversation would never get back to Michonne, but he figured he should probably let this train leave the station without him anyway. "It's a mystery I guess."

"Yeah man, a God damned enigma. Rosita's all swearing at me in Spanish over the whole birthday party thing." He shook his head, looking utterly confused and Rick bit back a laugh. "And let me ask ya another thing: why the hell these women still insisting on birthday parties? Aren't we a little old for this shit? I don't even know when your birthday is and you're my best friend."

"Well, if I were you I'd keep the age thing out of your counter argument," Rick offered.

"Good advice," Daryl agreed, settling back into his seat to mull over his conundrum in his head.

"So when is it? Rosita's party."

"I don't know. I'm sure she'll tell Michonne when she figures it out."

Rick shook his head at the density of Daryl's oblivion, but decided he was too tired to hand out anymore relationship advice. He nodded and continued fidgeting with the radio to ease his boredom.

"Here we go," Daryl said suddenly, gesturing to Rick's window and watching a black sedan hurry down the road, weaving back and forth over the centerline.

"Shit. I was just getting comfortable," Rick complained. He flipped on the sirens as the beat up vehicle passed them, coming unreasonably close to the hood of their car, before heading back to the other lane, and he spun his tires in the gravel for his own amusement before taking off behind them. This road was always good for a speeder or a distracted driver, but at three p.m. on a Thursday, he expected to be riding the gravel shoulder for a few more hours before such a blatant offense.

It was only a moment before the driver saw the blue lights flashing in his mirror and tore off to the side of the road, coming to an abrupt stop. Rick and Daryl exchanged a glance as they exited their cruiser and approached the car, each reminded of an eerily similar traffic stop they had both taken part in two and a half years ago, that turned out to be anything but simple.

The windows of the car were already rolled down when they approached and Rick was slightly relieved to see a rather young looking man behind the wheel, and a younger looking, yet hugely pregnant woman in the passenger seat. "You know why I pulled you over?" Rick recited, glad to be back to the monotony of a back road traffic infraction. He rested his arm on the roof of the car, leaning down face to face with the kid.

"I'm just trying to help my friend, Deputy. She's thinks she's in labor." He gestured to the girl beside him who, now that Rick could get a good look at her, didn't look so hot. He looked at Daryl over the top of the car with a raised eyebrow.

"You doin' ok, Ma'am?" Rick asked, his brow furrowing at the woman's odd behavior. She was slumped in the seat, eyes slitted, with a lazy smile that, if Rick remembered right, seemed much too comfortable for a woman in labor.

"Hey," Daryl said firmly when she offered no reply, "he asked you a question."

"She tell you she was in labor?" Rick asked the driver, who was starting to look more nervous by the minute. "Cause she sure as hell doesn't look like it."

"Look man," the young kid started, "she's just a friend of mine, it ain't my baby or nothing. She said she needed to get to the hospital, she wasn't feelin' good. I offered to take her."

"Yeah, well she's lucky you didn't kill her driving like that." Rick dipped his head again to look at the woman, then back at Daryl. "Better call Sasha," he said.

"This chick looks high as shit, Rick. She ain't in labor."

"Man, look at my seat," the driver yelled. "Her water broke or whatever."

"Shit," Daryl cursed, grabbing the radio on his shoulder and pressing the button to connect him to dispatch.

"Get another car for Romeo here," Rick said to Daryl. "You stay put." He pointed at the driver, then rushed around the passenger side of the car to help Daryl who was unbuckling the woman's seat belt.

The two of them assisted the barely conscious woman into a reclined position while Daryl continued to try to coax a response from her, grabbing a water bottle that was lying on the floor of the car and pouring a trickle out onto her chest. The white cotton dress she was wearing was soaked through with sweat from the heat of the day, and the exertion her body was putting forth without the benefit of her will, and the added moisture did nothing to rouse her senses. "They better step on it," Daryl mumbled to himself, glancing at the deserted road behind him.

Rick stood when he finally heard the long, whiny siren of the ambulance approaching, followed by the shorter chirps of a cruiser, and he traveled to the side of the road to flag down the responders.

"Whatta ya got?" Sasha asked, jumping out of the ambulance as soon as Tara ground it to a halt behind the parked vehicle. Rick followed her around to the woman, while Daryl met Shane who was hurrying out of his own car.

"Her friend here said she was in labor, but she's unresponsive, haven't been able to communicate with her at all," Rick said, standing back to let Sasha check the woman out.

"She's definitely in labor," Sasha said after a quick examination. "But she's out of it. We've got to get her to the hospital now."

"I'm coming," Rick said. "If she's on something while she's giving birth to this baby, I'm placing her under arrest as soon as she can hear me."

"Alright," Sasha agreed. "We'll load her up. See you in a minute."

"Shane, you got the driver?" Rick asked, as he hurried back to the other side of the car. "Dixon and I are escorting to the hospital."

"I got 'em man. Go on," Shane said, proceeding to place his cuffs on the young man who had already been removed from the car.

Rick nodded his appreciation, then turned to his partner. "You drive, I'll ride," he said, knowing Daryl was not fond of bouncing around in the back of the ambulance when Tara was driving.

"See you there," Daryl agreed, turning back to their cruiser and taking Rick's seat behind the wheel.

Rick hoisted himself up into the ambulance, taking a spot standing in the back corner where he could wait to be of use, and watched Sasha continue to work on the unconscious woman.

Tara pulled away, sirens blaring, and the sudden noise and motion finally seemed to startle the patient into a semi lucid state. "Where are we going?" she slurred, scanning the area with unfocused eyes.

"We're taking you to the hospital. You're in labor. How far along are you?" Sasha asked, strapping a blood pressure cuff on the woman while Rick watched for any signs he would need to step in. He had no idea what substance this woman was abusing, and though she looked like she was barely able to speak, let alone become combative, he wasn't taking any chances.

"I'm almost...I'm there," she stuttered, her eyes rolling back as Sasha pressed the small black bulb to get a reading.

"B.P. is 80 over 50," Sasha said aloud to herself. "I need to know if you have any drugs in your system." The woman's face was contorting in pain, unable to respond as a contraction gripped her body. "Ma'am," Sasha repeated.

Rick's eyes darted back and forth between Sasha and the woman, feeling the distress in the vehicle rising rapidly. They were about fifteen minutes from the hospital, give or take, and Sasha looked worried.

"It really hurts," the woman cried, the severity of the situation seemingly dawning on her by the minute.

Sasha peaked her head under the sheet she had draped over the patient's bare lower half, and looked back up at Rick with wide eyes. "This baby is coming now."

Rick raised his eyebrows in alarm, slightly dubious of Sasha's assessment despite her obvious training. When Carl was born, he and Lori had paced the halls of the hospital for hours after the contractions started, trying to coax him out. This woman was barely conscious ten minutes ago, and now she was pushing. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, the expression on both women's faces finally convincing him to get in gear.

"You remember how to coach her to breath?" Sasha glanced up at the woman who was starting to gasp in pain and claw at the gurney.

Rick nodded, somewhat unconfidently, and moved to crouch at the woman's head. "Alright now," he said, taking one of her hands and prying it from the sheet. "Take a deep breath, rest while you can."

Sasha went back to work, just as the ambulance hit a rather large bump, jostling the three of them like dice in a cup. "I'm gonna have to have her pull over," Sasha said, exasperated at the idea. Once they stopped they were definitely delivering that baby in the ambulance. Rick started to shake his head, hoping they could keep going just a little further, but Sasha's expression told him no amount of wishing was going to stop the baby from coming.

"I need to push," the woman yelled, bringing them back to the matter at hand.

"Ok," Sasha said, with a resolute nod. "Let's do this."

Rick yelled to Tara, telling her to pull to the side of the road and they lurched in place as they felt the vehicle come to a quick stop. They heard her on the radio, advising dispatch of their plan, before she rushed passed Rick and took a spot kneeling next to Sasha.

Rick continued to let whatever soothing words he could think of fly out of his mouth, his heart racing, but the woman screamed again, obviously not comforted by his attempt at support. He heard Sasha curse and his eyes locked onto his friends, watching them work. The two had accepted the situation far better than he had, calmly and professionally working to deliver the baby; he was still trying to catch up.

"Just a little more," she said, as encouragingly as she could.

Barely a moment later, a tiny cry floated out from beneath the sheet, mixing in a two part harmony with the relieved sobs of the woman on the gurney.

Rick watched in silent awe as Sasha cupped the tiny baby's head and bottom, her eyes like saucers as she brought her into view, just staring for a beat. "Well, hello little girl," she cooed, as she ran a gloved finger around the inside of the baby's mouth, clearing it of mucous and allowing her cries to gain some momentum.

The little blush colored infant squirmed in her grip, clenching her tiny fists like a boxer ready to take out whomever was responsible for her sudden appearance in the back of that ambulance, and Rick let out a small laugh at the sight. He silently took inventory of tiny fingers and toes, allowing himself a moment to take in what he had just witnessed, as his friends continued to work, drying and wrapping the baby in a blanket.

Tara smiled up at him, then at the mother, before her face fell. "Shit," she exclaimed, just as Rick felt the woman's hand go slack in his.

"Come here," Sasha ordered him, and he dropped his hold on the patient, coming around to meet them at the foot of the gurney. She quickly handed the still crying infant to Rick, as Tara rushed to separate the baby from her unconscious mother, cutting and clamping the cord while Rick cradled her. When she was done, she tucked the blanket tightly around the baby's body and Rick backed away, taking a seat on the long bench and watching as the women worked.

"Hold on," Tara called to him, as she rushed to the front of the ambulance, starting the engine and sirens up again. Rick clutched the baby to his chest, stabilizing himself against the wall as Tara took off. He was aware of Sasha's furious efforts in front of him, but he focused on shushing and patting the baby, her back barely larger than his hand. Her cries started to taper off and he moved her to the crook of his arm, staring into bright blue eyes that were trying to make sense of him and seemingly sharing in his disbelief at what they had just endured together.

 **...**

Sasha and Tara pushed the gurney through the double doors of the hospital's emergency room, Rick following closely behind with the newborn cradled in his arms. As soon as their feet hit the tile floor, they were instantly surrounded by a team of nurses, who began examining the unconscious woman while Sasha rattled off her current stats. Rick stood, watching the group whisk away down the hall, before another nurse met him where he stood, scooping the baby out of his arms. A second team formed a circle around her, effectively pushing him aside.

"You're not arresting anyone right now, Deputy," a man in scrubs said to him, before rushing off behind them. "You can wait in there." He pointed over his shoulder toward the waiting room where a handful of people sat in various states of distress, and Rick meandered over, slumping into a chair against the wall.

After a few long moments of silence, save for the sound of a game show blaring from the tiny television in the corner, Sasha and Tara emerged from the triage corridor, at the same time as Daryl casually strolled through the front door, all three coming to meet where the first line of chairs began.

"Hey," Rick said, standing to alert them to his presence. "What's going on?"

"They're taking her to the O.R.," Tara said, looking like she had been completely drained over the last thirty minutes. "She's losing a lot of blood."

"And the baby?" he asked, searching their eyes for a sign.

"They took her to the NICU," Sasha said, avoiding his eyes. "No word yet."

Rick nodded and reclaimed his chair, as Sasha dropped into the seat beside him.

"I'm going to grab a coffee before we head out," Tara said, ambling off in a different direction.

"She talkin' at all before they wheeled her off?" Daryl asked, resting a booted foot on the chair beside his partner and leaning an elbow on his knee.

"Couple words. We'll wait."

"It's gonna be awhile," Sasha offered, knowing the two would probably be called out again before the woman was in recovery.

"We'll wait." Rick crossed an ankle over his knee and leaned back in his seat to punctuate his point.

Daryl regarded Rick's posture and decided to take a seat if they were getting comfortable, claiming the chair on his other side. "It's shit, right?" he said quietly.

"What's that?" Rick asked, keeping his eyes on the maroon and white tile floor.

"People like that having babies, while you and 'Chonne been trying all this time."

Rick swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He was trying to keep that opinion at bay, afraid that maybe spiteful thoughts could be bad luck. He believed in superstitious stuff like that these days, when cause and effect seemed to be more of a theory than a fact. "Can't look at it that way," he said after a moment. "That baby's got a right to try to make it in this world, just like any baby Michonne and I could have."

"Yeah, but still. Don't make it fair."

Rick nodded, accepting the vicarious satisfaction he got from Daryl's pettiness. "Does seem a little unfair," he offered with a shrug. "Maybe don't mention this to her, ok?" He glanced at Sasha, who returned his nod.

"Sure thing, Rick," she said, smiling with tight lips.

Tara came back then, sipping from a styrofoam cup and balancing her radio and a candy bar in her other hand. She held them up to Sasha after she swallowed her coffee. "Gotta go," she said, gesturing to the door. "Catch you guys later."

Sasha stood, resting a hand on Rick's shoulder and giving him a firm squeeze. "See you guys. Be careful out there."

"You too," Daryl called, watching the two women leave, before turning toward Rick. "How long we waiting?"

"Little while longer."

"Alright."

…

It was getting dark when Rick finally pulled onto his quiet, tree-lined road, the houses along the way glowing from the inside out against the warm night. His headlights bounced off of a long row of rectangular signs as he drove, stuck in the ground every five feet like soldiers in perfect formation. His wife and Maggie had spent hours canvassing the town with them, decorating all of their neighbors' lawns and every intersection in town with the bright blue banners carrying his name.

This had been a part of his plan since the day he put on the uniform, but now it seemed surreal: seeing 'Rick Grimes for Sheriff' in print, ubiquitously plastered along the streets of the town he used to run around in as a kid. Of course, his whole life seemed surreal to him now, in a good way. His path had been rocky and winding, but it had led to the kind of life that a man could be proud of, humbled by. He had everything he ever needed in his possession; he was married to his best friend, his son was growing into a mature and kind young man and he was doing what he was born to do in a place where he had earned back a good name. He wasn't sure his heart could be any more full, but Michonne wanted one more thing, and after everything she had given him, he was aching to give it to her.

The downstairs of the house was dark when he made it through the front door, except for the dim light that hung over the dining room table. Michonne had replaced the utilitarian fixture that used to hang there, hanging a more modern globe with a silver finish that dripped down from the top, creating a unique play of light on the ceiling above and the table below. She always left it on in the evenings, the dimmer turned down for ambiance she said. Rick smiled at the thought of the warmth she had injected into this house and his life over the past few years, before feeling the pull of that warmth beckoning him to their bedroom, where he figured she was.

"Michonne," he called, as he took the corner while loosening the buttons on his uniform shirt.

"I'm in here."

He opened the door to see her laying on her side on top of the duvet on their bed, already in her pajamas. "You feelin' sick?" he asked, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice, since sickness would be an unfortunate byproduct of what he was actually hoping for, and because eagerness was often met with disappointment these days. He didn't want to cause her anymore of that.

"No," she smiled wearily, curling her knees further in toward her stomach. "Just cramps."

"Oh," he said, realizing the disappointment would find its way in no matter his tempered tone of voice. He walked to the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead, before carefully climbing over her to lay himself flush against her back. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, feeling the triteness of his words, but not able to find a better replacement.

"Me too." She reached behind him, running her fingers through his hair while he nuzzled into her neck.

"What can I do?" he asked.

She pushed backwards, molding her body into the curve of his and covered his arm with hers, pulling him closer. "Nothing. Just stay."

He nodded against her shoulder, placing a kiss on her bare skin. "In two weeks, we'll try again," he said after a while, knowing she was probably expecting him to say that. He always said it.

"Maybe I'm too old for this, Rick" she sighed, tipping her head back slightly in an unsuccessful attempt to see his face.

"You know the doctor said you're not," he said, slightly confused at the defeat in her voice. They each had their common refrain on this day every month, and that wasn't hers.

She didn't respond and he craned his neck to see tiny tears glistening in the corner of her eyes waiting to be let free, but she kept them contained.

"Maybe you should take some time off from the campaign," he offered, carefully. He didn't want to give her the impression he thought any of her actions were to blame. "It will be one less stress."

"No," she said firmly. "Whatever happens here, I want to keep being there for you."

"You don't have to," he said, pushing up on his elbow to meet her gaze. "I'm always leaning on you, Michonne. Lean on me for once."

"Oh, Rick," she said, cupping his cheek in her hand. "I am leaning on you, you don't see it, but this is part of it. Let me do this, I need to. Besides, you know it's just the first day that's hard. I just need the day to be sad about it, then I'll be ok."

She sounded as if she was convincing herself and it broke his heart just a little more. "Ok," he whispered. "But if tomorrow comes and you need another day, you keep taking 'em, ok?"

"Ok," she agreed, with a hint of a smile.

"What time do I have to pick Carl up from his soccer thing?"

"The dinner ends at 8," she said, glancing at the clock.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, placing his warm hand on her aching midriff and rubbing her skin with his thumb.

"I just ate half a pint of ice cream," she admitted, chuckling into the pillow.

He laughed with her, before rolling away and continuing to unbutton his shirt. "Guess I'm eating alone."

"Sorry," she smirked. "I'll come out and sit with you."

"I'm just going to make a sandwich, I'll come back and eat in here and you can tell me about your day." He kissed her cheek before hurrying off, hoping he could find a way to avoid telling her about his own day without having to lie, but knowing he would.

…

"How was the spaghetti?" Rick asked, as Carl hopped into the front seat of his SUV, throwing his backpack and gym bag over his shoulder and into the back.

"Not as good as Michonne's, but I'm stuffed." He strapped himself in and leaned back against the seat, pushing out his belly and patting it with his hand.

Rick chuckled at his son's joke. He couldn't help but marvel at the newly minted teenager beside him, his slimming face and deepening voice a testament to the fact that he wasn't a little kid anymore. Now instead of taking him fishing and out for ice cream, he took him to the shooting range and picked him up from team dinners at what used to be his bedtime.

"Make sure you tell her that," he answered, knowing Michonne would tell him not to be rude, but would secretly love the compliment.

"Where is she? You guys usually travel together." The sly look in Carl's eye was another sign of his maturing nature. He was getting better at giving his old man a hard time.

"She was already comfortable," he lied.

Carl shrugged, accepting the excuse. "How was work?" he asked.

"Long," Rick answered, dragging out the word to illustrate his point. Twelve hours on had turned to fourteen, when he had stopped back at the hospital before coming home, though the women who was currently responsible for the anger sitting uncomfortably in his stomach had still been unconscious. He knew his anger was exacerbated by his own personal situation, and maybe there would have been a little more empathy mixed in, if it hadn't been for the dampness of Michonne's eyes or her dimmed spirit that he had come home to. But he had come home to it, and he couldn't help but relish the thought of facilitating that woman's penance for her lack of regard for the tiny life that depended on her. He shook his head of the thought, deciding to focus on his son and wife for the night. "Michonne is picking out a movie, while she waits for us, if you're interested."

"Yeah, I suppose I could spend the night with the family," Carl said, as if he had the means to be anywhere else. Although, he had been known to lock himself in his room and ignore them for hours on end as a typical teenager was prone to. "As long as she picks something good and you guys don't laugh and flirt through the entire thing."

Rick squinted at his son, only vaguely annoyed since they did tend to do that. After a long day away from her, sitting silently through a movie was a difficult task. "I'm sure she'll pick somethin' you like, I'm the odd man out when it comes to that," he said.

"That's why you have your own Netflix profile, Dad," Carl smirked. "You're the only one who likes those cowboy movies."

Rick ignored Carl's ribbing, choosing instead to grill him about his school day for the rest of the short trip. Once they arrived home, Carl jumped out of the car, leaving Rick behind as he rushed to greet Michonne. He hadn't grown out of all his old habits, Rick mused as he followed behind, closing the door that Carl had failed to.

He came into the living room to see Carl's arms wrapped around Michonne's waist as she sat up on the couch to greet him, and just like that he looked like a little boy again.

"You pick something?" he asked, dropping into the seat on the other side of her and opening his arms to receive her when she let Carl go.

"I did." She smiled mischievously at him, all traces of her sullen mood having disappeared upon their son's arrival home. "You're not going to like it, but I couldn't find anything that you would."

He groaned emphatically for good measure, but in all honesty he couldn't care less. The contented thought that regularly swam around in his brain, settled upon him again: this was good.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Hi everyone. Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter. You are all so kind. Here is chapter 2 early! Hope you enjoy.

XXXXXXXXX

The sun was streaming in through the windows when Michonne woke beside her still lightly snoring husband. Rays of light bounced off of the crisp white sheets of their bed and combed through the raucous mess of curls on his head, painting streaks of honeyed caramel over his dark hair.

The morning felt fresh with optimism. She had wrapped herself in a melancholy cloud to slumber in, but day had a way of shining a light against the self pity of night and exposing it for the shadow it was. Refreshed, she rolled toward him, ready to share her new mood.

She traced a hand down the smooth plane of his back, feathering her touch against his skin in an effort to rouse him slowly and witness each phase of his return trip to consciousness. He twitched beneath her fingers once, then twice, letting out a long sigh, but she didn't get to see the fruit of her labor, because her phone began to vibrate loudly on her bedside table, waking him with a start. She mirrored his lengthy exhale and turned to grab it, rubbing her eyes before trying to focus on the screen.

"Maggie," she said, when she caught his recently open eyes waiting for an explanation.

"Kinda early, ain't it?" He turned onto his back, lifting his head to see the clock and confirm the early hour.

"Do you want to do a town hall debate with Gregory at the end of the month?" she asked, typing away on her phone and having completely switched gears from her lazy morning greeting.

Rick quirked an eyebrow at her. "Is that really necessary?" he asked, sounding as if he was considering both the idea and Maggie's chosen hour of invitation in his assessment.

"Depends on how big a deal he makes out of you refusing."

He groaned loudly and peeked over her shoulder to discern whether she had already answered for him.

Rick was slated to win the race for sheriff by a large margin. With his opponent being a recent transplant to the area, they both knew he had a home field advantage in a game that was a good percentage about the terrain, but Michonne wasn't taking any chances. Rick had earned this with sweat and blood in the most literal sense, and though he was much better at the leading than the campaigning, she wasn't about to let him skip any opportunities.

"Guess that's settled," he said, reading her affirmative response before she tossed her phone back on the table and got back to her more pleasant occupation. "You really need to talk to her about work life balance."

Michonne chuckled at him, settling under his arm and soothing his emerging crankiness with her fingers on his chest. "She's eager and she's working for free, so let her do her thing."

"I couldn't stop her if I tried." He pressed his lips to the top of her head, allowing himself to be pacified by her familiar ministrations. "You seem good this morning," he offered. "You feelin' better?"

"It's a new day," she said with a smile. "Short shift today, right?"

"Off at five."

"Good. Let's ride in together, we can strategize. Oh, and we're going to Morgan's tonight, so bring a change of clothes if you don't want to come home first." Michonne rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe from a hook inside the bathroom, slipping it over the t-shirt she had slept in, and tying it around her waist.

"You sure you're up for Morgan's?" he asked, making no move to get out of bed.

She crossed back over to him, leaning over her side of the bed to cup his cheek. "Yes. It's been a long week, let's go have some fun."

"Ok," he said, cautiously, eyeing her for any indication of a misdirect.

It was true she had coped with some of their previous monthly setbacks by throwing herself full force into work or the campaign or some other distraction, burying the disappointment inside a tightly packed schedule with no time to feel what she needed to feel. She'd learned her lesson after a few unexpected crying jags at work or the dinner table, when the emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel, bubbled up at the first changing of her heart's guard. She knew it was on his mind now as he searched her face, trying to read her soul like only he could. This time she really did just want to spend some time with him though, and she didn't want him to worry.

"I promise, Rick," she whispered, before reaching under the sheet to pinch him playfully. "Now, let's go. You're driving and we're going to be late."

…

Rick dropped Michonne off at the front door of the mayor's office, using the short walk to the precinct to go over his agenda for the day. They had patrol, two cases that required follow up interviews at the jail, and an arrest warrant to file for, though they were pretty sure that guy had skipped town long ago. Most importantly though, was another trip to the hospital to see if their young 'Mother of the Year' nominee was awake yet. After spending the night wrapped around his wife, listening to her try to hide her weeping from him and feeling powerless to provide any sort of comfort, he was even more anxious to book the woman on any charges he could make stick, to make sure she never put that baby in danger again.

He pushed through the double glass doors, coffee in hand, and scanned the room to see who was there to give him a report on the night's activity. He immediately spotted his least favorite co-worker at the front desk and had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes, something he had picked up from Michonne. "Mornin' Leon," he forced himself to say. "Any messages for me from the hospital?"

"Nope," the daft man responded. "Slow night."

Rick nodded, moving on to his desk to wait for Daryl to arrive. He greeted Shane with a wave, when he spotted him pecking away at his keyboard with both index fingers.

"Hey, your boy from yesterday fessed up," he called to Rick as he passed.

"To what exactly?" Rick dropped into his seat across from Shane, glancing at his watch to see he was still early.

"Said he got that girl high before they left for the hospital. Said she was freaking out, saying she couldn't take it no more. Claims it was just one time."

"Good," Rick said, eliciting a furrowed brow from Shane. "She's not awake yet, but now we got somethin' on her."

"Yeah," Shane replied with a shrug. "Thought we dealt with this shit a few years ago, man. You think it's creeping back in?"

"Nah," Rick replied. "I think we're still cleaning up the same mess." He looked up at the sound of the door opening at the front of the building and saw Daryl finally making his way in for the day. "We're heading over there today," he said, gesturing at his partner. "I want to take care of this one myself."

"Good luck," Shane said, punching one more key with a flourish. He shoved his chair out from his desk and waved a hand over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "Report's on the printer. I'll see ya tonight."

…

"So what's up for the weekend?" Andrea asked, as she removed her blazer and slid into the booth at the tiny cafe around the corner from their neighboring offices. Michonne decided to keep hers on, as the day had started out sunny and warm, but by the noon hour clouds had completely covered the sky, cooling the August air to a tolerable degree.

"I have to go into the city," Michonne replied as she perused the menu. She knew it by heart by now, but it kept her eyes occupied and less available to her friend's scrutiny.

"What for?"

"I have an acupuncture appointment," she said, trying to keep her tone optimistic.

"I was kind of hoping you were going to say you were done with that," Andrea said, offering her a slight smile.

"Me too," Michonne agreed, releasing a weary breath. "But back at it this month. Along with some other things."

Andrea nodded, getting back to her own menu and leaving it at that. "At least you can have a few drinks tonight," she smirked.

"That's some good spin," Michonne laughed. "Maggie would be proud."

"Speaking of Maggie, what's Rick got her working round the clock now? She said she couldn't come to lunch because she had some calls to make for the campaign."

Michonne chuckled at their enthusiastic friend. "She's driven, that one."

"Monroe will certainly be happy when her re-election campaign comes up. You and Maggie will be pros by then."

"And you," Michonne said with an appreciative smile, knowing Andrea was being modest. She had worked right alongside them many a night, stuffing envelopes and hanging signs.

"I haven't been able to do as much as I'd like, but count me in for the next fundraiser where I get to make Shane dress up and dance with me."

"Oh, you know I will. And Rick appreciates your help."

"Well, it's in my best interest to see him elected," Andrea said with a sly grin. "I already know how to handle him, plus I introduced him to his wife, so he owes me."

"See, you've already got politics down pat. Come on over to the campaign office and I'll give you a real job."

"We'll see. Is Rick going with you to your appointment this weekend?"

"No, he's working."

"Let's make it a girls trip then," Andrea offered. "We'll make Maggie take a day off and we can wait while you get poked with little needles, then get lunch and do some shopping in the city."

"Sounds perfect," Michonne smiled. She didn't mind the actual appointment, in fact she found it to be the most relaxing part of her week, but she knew the ride there and the ride back without Rick's company was just the kind of alone time she needed to get lost in a rabbit hole of her own thoughts, and that never turned out well. "I appreciate it."

"Of course," Andrea smiled. "Now let's order. I'm starving."

…

The sound of Rick's boots echoed through the hospital corridor as he walked determinedly toward the nurses station. He left Daryl at the jail to conduct an interview on his own, deciding that splitting up some of their assignments was the best way to be clocking out and on their way to Morgan's by five. The nurses he passed greeted him with familiar nods as he toured the intensive care unit, looking for her room.

"Can I help you, Rick?" a blonde woman in pink scrubs called out, as he peaked in one of the patient rooms that was surrounded by windows.

"Hi, Patricia." He turned and met her at the round desk situated at the center of the ward and leaned an elbow on the counter. "I was looking for the girl who was brought in yesterday. The one who had the baby in the ambulance."

"Ah, yes. You've come to arrest the new mother," she said, looking down at some papers on her desk as she spoke, avoiding his eyes.

Rick looked at her with a frown, finding her tone unexpected. "The one who was passed out from an afternoon of drug use while she was giving birth. That one."

"Well, I'm sorry. She's not doing well. You'll have to wait till she wakes up to cuff her and take her downtown."

Her words were dripping with disdain and he tilted his head to the side, his voice rising in disbelief. "You think I'm the asshole here?" he asked.

Patricia let out a long sigh, poking the pen she was holding through the top of her tight bun, and looked up at him from her chair with a warmer expression.

"No, Rick. It's just working here, I've seen some things. It's not always cut and dry. People can change. They just need a reason to...and a chance."

Rick dipped his head, running a hand back and forth through his hair while he took in her words. He'd known Patricia a long time, she worked for Hershel before she decided to go back to school to learn how to treat people instead of animals, and it seemed she had picked a thing or two up from the sage old man.

She had a point, and he readily admitted his opinion on the matter was jaded by his own pain, but it was his job to protect, and even if he _was_ able to feel the empathy everyone else seemed to be mustering, he was sworn to uphold the law and that law might be the only thing protecting that baby. He supposed he could be a little less enthusiastic about it, though.

"Can I see the baby?" he asked, the request surprising both of them. He had meant to just ask how she was doing, but he suddenly felt the need to make one more stop.

Patricia smiled at him, sliding her chair over to the phone at her desk and dialing a few short numbers. She spoke briefly into the receiver, before hanging it on its cradle and tipping her head toward the door.

Rick followed her silently down a few meandering hallways, until they came to the staff elevator, where they entered and he leaned against the wall, watching Patricia punch in the floor number.

"She's healthy," Patricia said, breaking their silence when the door opened to the maternity ward. "It was a scary first day, but she rallied. She's a little fighter."

Rick nodded at the back of her head as he strolled behind her, not quite sure what was pulling him to make the stop. He should be getting back to help Daryl, but he had waited for hours the day before just to see the little one pull through, before getting called out again and having to give up his vigil. He just wanted to see her with his own eyes.

When they rounded the corner to the large glass window looking into the nursery, he immediately recognized her. There were only three infants in their plastic, mobile bassinets at the time, but those big, familiar eyes were wide open as she silently took in the pinhole design in the acoustic ceiling tile, looking as though she was analyzing a timeless piece of art.

"Deputy Grimes," a woman said from behind his shoulder, startling him. Patricia continued on without him, and he turned to see Dr. Mary Wilkes standing behind him in her white lab coat, a stethoscope hanging around her neck and a clipboard in her hands.

"Ma'am," Rick greeted, offering his hand. "Good to see you. How's Noah?"

"He's well. He's in school now, out of state. He's studying to be an architect."

"That's good to hear," he said, resting his hands on his gunbelt and shuffling his feet.

"He had the chance because of you." Rick nodded, letting her praise hang awkwardly in the air for a moment. "What brings you here?" she asked, glancing through the glass at her tiny patients. "I'm just coming on, is one of these…?"

"No," Rick said with a chuckle. "I happened to be on the call when this one was delivered." He pointed at the tiny girl, still staring upward, contentedly. "I was just checking in."

"Well, that makes more sense. I'm sure I would have heard if you and your wife were expecting."

Rick ran a thumb across his brow, the statement stinging a little more than it should have. "Right...the nurses said she's doing ok?"

"She is." Dr. Wilkes tucked her clipboard underneath her arm, running her eyes up and down Rick's face. "You want a better look?"

Rick raised his eyebrows, glancing around the hallway to see they were alone before nodding.

"Come on." She led him through the glass door, into the nursery where Patricia and another nurse were chatting in the far corner, and tipped her head toward the hand sanitizer on the wall.

He quickly rubbed the gel on his palms and through his fingers until they were dry, and took a few timid steps toward the baby girl whom he had clutched to his chest twenty-four hours ago. They were both significantly more calm today, he thought with a chuckle as he leaned over the plastic crib.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, his drawl bouncing off the hard surfaces of the room. He lowered his voice a little, reaching a tentative hand out to touch the crease of the swaddle blanket she was wrapped in. "It's good to see you again."

The baby's still developing eyes bounced around at the sound of his voice and he bent at the waist, leaning closer until her little orbs could focus on his face. She studied him with the same quizzical look as she had given the ceiling, and he smiled at her already inquiring mind. A vision of Carl's newborn face popped into his head and he beamed from ear to ear. He knew most light skinned babies were born with bright blue eyes, but the resemblance and the presence of the same blue and pink striped hat that the hospital had been putting on babies for as long as he could remember, made the comparison inevitable. Carl was a screamer though, he remembered. He came out crying and didn't stop for the first three months. This little one was oddly quiet, content given her tumultuous entrance into this world, and the fact that she found herself already navigating it alone. Rick's heart contracted at the thought, the anger he had been working to push aside bubbling back up into his throat.

"How does this work?" he asked, turning back to Dr. Wilkes who had been busying herself at another crib. "She just stays in the nursery until her mother wakes up? The nurses care for her?"

"For now," she replied. "She has a couple more days here, given the slight complications she had at birth, but after the usual stay, if the mother isn't capable, another plan may have to be made."

"Has anyone gotten in touch with her family?"

"She doesn't appear to have any," the doctor said, turning her full attention to Rick. "I know what's going on with the mother. It's probably a child services case, unless she makes a miraculous recovery. That's really why you're here, right? For the mother?"

Rick leaned back on his heels, looking down at the little girl again before nodding. He had stormed in here ready to inflict his own version of justice on the situation, before Patricia's gentle admonishment, now he was a little less certain about how he felt. He let out a long breath, letting his lungs deflate until they burned for more air and he settled his gaze one more time on the baby. With a small smile he silently promised her that she had someone looking out for her. He would keep her safe the only way he could.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said, turning to leave. "I'll be back."

"You're welcome. Oh, and Rick, you've got our vote."

Rick returned her smile, bringing his flattened hand to his forehead and giving her a half salute in response. "'I appreciate it, Doc.," he said, "take good care of that one."

"You can count on me."

Rick made his way back out to his cruiser, the clouds in the sky shielding his sullen mood from any optimistic interference by the sun. The determination he had worn on his way there had deflated to a troubling incertitude. It occurred to him that in any other situation where he was unclear on a move, he would be heading straight to Michonne, but this time he couldn't ask for her to weigh in, to look into his heart and tell him what was there hiding from him. Not only did he not want to mention the baby to her right now, but he was afraid to share his anger with her, to show her how petty his weak heart could be, and admit he was struggling to not succumb to it. She didn't deserve to be forced to be a party to that; not her.

…

"You seem a little stressed," Michonne said, reaching a hand up to massage the back of Rick's neck as they approached the front door to Morgan's. "Did you have a tough day?"

He smiled at her, trying to erase any signs of worry from his face. "I'm good," he said. "You ok?"

"I'm good."

She smiled at him in a way that told him she was being genuine and he allowed his muscles to loosen under her touch. "Good."

He held the door for her, admiring her form as she passed him wearing a pair of black ponte leggings that were caressing her curves in a way that made him slightly jealous. Tearing his eyes away from her ass, he glanced up to see a large, blue banner pinned over the bar with his name printed across it. "You're in friendly territory," Michonne smiled, noticing the confused look on his face.

"Did you hang that?" he asked, squinting at her.

"Nope. Carol had it made herself."

Rick shook his head in humility and disbelief. This race was shining a whole new light on the community he had grown up in, exposing a few foes, but more importantly, proving how many true friends he had. Carol and he had clashed before over politics and policy during a few late night bar room debates, and honestly he wasn't sure if he would have her vote. The support brought an earnest smile to his face that he proudly shared with his beloved campaign manager, receiving a prettier one in return.

"Sheriff Grimes," Morgan called as they saddled up to the bar. "Good to see you again."

"Let's not jump the gun, Morgan," Rick said, shaking his friend's hand. "We're still a ways away from the election. I appreciate this, though." He gestured to the banner above him.

"Anything I can do to help. I already told Michonne if ya'll need a place for a fundraiser or event, you call me first. Now what can I get you?"

Rick looked at Michonne, not sure if she was going to partake, but she beat him to it, ordering for both of them.

"Well, look who made it here on time for once," Shane bellowed from behind them. "Where's Dixon?"

"He'll be along. You guys have a table yet?"

"The regular one. Come on."

Michonne thanked Morgan and they followed Shane to a table where the usual crew was already gathered. Abraham and Sasha were at either end of the table, flanked by Glenn and Maggie in the booth, and Andrea and Shane in two of the open chairs.

"It has been too long since we all done this," Shane said, handing out a round of beer bottles he was delivering to the large group.

Rick took a seat on the bench next to Glenn, holding an arm out to pull Michonne in beside him.

"Maggie, how's the wedding planning going?" Sasha asked, once they had all said their hellos to the new arrivals.

"Yeah, I hope you're makin' time for yourself, Maggie. 6 a.m. debate planning is above and beyond what you're expected to do."

"It's fine Rick. I can do both. Speaking of…"

"No," he said, putting a hand up to stop her and tightening his arm around his wife. "Not tonight. I'm enjoying myself tonight."

"Alright, fine," Maggie said, digging in her purse for her phone to pull up a picture. "I did pick out a dress...but that's about all I've done. This whole thing is a lot of hard work. The campaign is my break."

"Yeah, you guys had the right idea," Glenn chimed in, while the ladies passed Maggie's phone around to a chorus of excited oohs and ahhs. "Eloping seems like the easiest way to go right now."

"Except my daddy would kill us both," Maggie said, shooting him a look.

Rick chuckled at the thought of Hershel finding out Maggie and Glenn had skipped out on the big wedding he had planned. He was angry enough when he and Michonne had gone away for the week and come back married, having only shared the plan with Carl. Not as mad as Rebeccah and Michonne's father, though. It had taken him awhile to get back in his father-in-law's good graces after that, despite it being Michonne's idea.

"Rick already broke him in," Glenn argued, only half kidding.

"Broke his heart is more like it. It ain't happening."

"Listen Glenn," Michonne said, tipping her cocktail in his direction. A month without so much as a glass of wine had her tolerance down and she had a mischievous spark in her eye. "This is all about keeping the woman happy. Rick married me on a snowy mountain at sunrise, with no one else around except us and a priest, because that made me happy. The dress, the church, the reception, that makes Maggie happy. So you'll do it, and as a reward, Hershel won't shoot you."

"She's got a point," Andrea said, "He might shoot you."

"I don't know," Maggie sighed, turning a private smile to her fiance, "It does sound kinda romantic when she puts it that way."

"Nope, no way," Andrea fired back, holding her beer bottle up to her lips and glaring at Michonne. "They screwed us all out of a party and you're gonna make up for it."

"We're doing it," Glenn said with his hands in the air to stop the female army that had assembled against him. "It was just a suggestion."

"Smart man," Sasha mumbled, handing the phone back to Maggie.

"So heard you had quite the day yesterday," Abraham interjected, steering the subject away from wedding talk and settling his gaze on Rick. "You just love the back of my bus, don't you Grimes. Can't stay away."

Michonne looked at him quizzically and Rick could feel the heat of his omission traveling up his neck to sting his face. "Were you hurt?" she asked, looking him up and down and worrying she had missed something due to her pre-occupation the evening before.

"No," Rick said, shaking his head and scratching the day old stubble on his chin.

"He didn't tell you he delivered a baby on the ambulance?" Abe asked, wide eyed.

"Sasha delivered a baby," Rick corrected him, glancing at his accomplice for some sort of assistance, but she only swallowed hard and stared down at the table.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Michonne asked, her brow furrowed in confusion and what Rick thought might be slight embarrassment. The thought of that hit him in the gut and he parted his lips, searching for a good explanation.

"What, you afraid she wouldn't like you looking up another lady's hospital gown?" Abraham boomed. "Honey, trust me, that is not a sight to get hot and bothered over. I watched both of my boys pop out the canal and let me tell you…"

"Abe," Sasha interrupted. "Shut up."

Michonne took a sip of her cocktail, glancing around the table at her friend's various expressions of pity and discomfort, before slipping out from under Rick's arm. "I'm going to the ladies room," she announced, shuffling out of the booth and walking off.

"You're an idiot," Sasha said to Abe, once Michonne was out of earshot.

"I'll go get her," Andrea said, pushing her chair out from the table, but Rick held his hand up silently, and stood to follow Michonne.

…

"Chonne," Rick said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder as he came up behind her in the narrow hallway that led to the bathrooms. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"It's fine."

"No," he said, turning her around to look at him. "It's not. Look, it just didn't seem like the time to mention it last night. I'm sorry, if I had known you would hear it from someone else, I would have told you."

"You don't have to hide things from me, Rick," she said, leaning against the wall to look up at him. "I'm not going to fall apart."

"You can if you need to, Michonne," he said, trying to control the pleading pitch of his voice with a whisper. "God knows you were there for me when I did." He took a step closer, placing a hand on the wall behind her to lean into her space.

"It's been twenty months, Rick," she said, smiling softly. She flattened her palm against his chest, running her thumb over a button on his shirt. "And who knows how many more. Other people are going to have babies. I can't get upset every time that happens."

"I know that. And I should have known you'd be stronger than me about it, I just didn't want to see you any more upset."

She nodded, taking in the emotion in his voice. "Did it upset you?" she asked, her eyes glistening for him, for her, she wasn't sure.

"A little."

"Why?"

"It's just the mother...nevermind," he sighed, clamping his eyes shut for a moment before focusing on her again. "It doesn't matter. I just want to give you everything you want in this world, Michonne. No exceptions. It was just a reminder that I haven't done that."

"Right now I just want to go through whatever happens with you. Please don't separate your experience from mine, Rick, because I don't want to do this alone."

"You'll never be alone. I promise." He dipped his head, pressing her into the wall with his chest as he kissed the soft skin just below her ear. "Are you coming back out with me?"

"Yes," she said, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. "But I don't want to go back to the table yet. Let's go dance."

Rick dropped his head to her shoulder in defeat. He knew he wasn't going to turn her down now, not when he was feeling guilty and she was looking the way she did. "Fine," he reluctantly agreed. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to hand her a few dollar bills for the jukebox. "Can you pick somethin' slow? I haven't even finished one drink yet."

"Yes, Deputy," she smirked, trailing her fingers along his stomach as she slipped out from where he had trapped her.

…

Michonne rested her hand on Rick's thigh as he navigated the quiet streets of town. They didn't quite close the place down like she had intended after a long, hard week, but he had reminded her, and she had agreed, that she wouldn't want to be feeling the effects of a rare night of drinking on her way to her appointment in the city the next day.

She leaned her head on the passenger side window, looking over at his handsome face just visible in the dim light of the dash, and smiled as she thought of the evening they'd had. "Shane was right," she said, breaking the comfortable quiet that had enveloped their tired tongues. "It's been way too long since we've done that."

Rick turned his head at the sound of her voice, giving her a lazy grin before refocusing on the road. "I don't like to admit to Shane being right about somethin', but it does seem like everyone's been straight out lately; it was good to relax. Did you have fun?"

"I did," she replied. "You have to give him credit, Shane did a good job picking up the slack as party planner since Maggie's been too busy."

"Yeah, he did," Rick agreed, his drawl thick with contentment. "Maybe he's finally found his calling."

She chuckled quietly at his joke. Her buzz was walking the thin line between giddy and sentimental and she was grateful for him keeping the mood light. "We have good friends...family," she sighed through her lingering smile. Her heart made the correction for her. Three years after planting roots in this little place off the beaten path, her garden was lush with the fruits of friendship and love. Starting with the man beside her, who with his son, had tilled the very soil where it would all flourish.

Rick laid a hand on top of hers in agreement, using the other to steer the car onto the street that would take them to their home. So much had happened in that little bar, she mused, continuing her rum induced rumination over the night. She'd fallen in love with him after a dramatic night that had played out on the street outside, though she didn't admit that to herself until months later, and she was standing on that same dance floor, wrapped in his arms just like tonight, when she accepted his offer to make his home into theirs. She'd also been sitting in that same booth when she thought she was going to lose him before she even got a chance to have him, listening, terrified as events unfolded that, unbenounced to them, would eventually spur this campaign.

"It's funny we ended up back there tonight," she said, wanting to include him in her nostalgic reflection of the meeting place's role in their lives together. "It's almost our anniversary."

He quirked an eyebrow at her as he slowed to take the left hand turn into their driveway, his headlights gleaming off of the white gravel.

She smiled back at his confusion, they had been married in the dead of winter and they were both currently sitting in his truck with the windows down, listening to the late summer song of the cicadas as they welcomed them home.

"I mean of when we first met," she clarified. "At Morgan's."

"A little early," he said, shifting his truck into park and turning off the key. The soft country music that had been streaming from the radio came to an abrupt stop, and she pawed through the now quiet night for a clearer memory. "It was September when we met," he said, regarding her furrowed brow.

"Right. It was so hot that night, it felt like summer." She opened her door, stepping down from the elevated cabin and catching herself on the door as her spiky heels twisted in the unstable rock.

"You alright?" Rick asked, closing his door and coming around to eye her with amusement.

"I'm fine," she said, reaching down to slip off her shoe and settle her bare foot on the sharp substrate.

"Michonne, don't," he chided, putting a hand on her waist as she steadied herself. She removed the other offending article anyway, allowing him to assist her before feeling him scoop her up in his arms and toss her over his shoulder. His large palm clutched at her ass cheek greedily, while the other steadied her back.

She snorted in laughter, hitting him lightly with the bottom of her shoe in mock protest as he carried her to the front door. "Put me down," she said, half heartedly. She would never cop to enjoying his caveman side, as she put it, when he would exert his will over her with physical dominance. In a similar way to her appreciation for his uniform, she tried to deny the unliberated pleasure she took in it the best she could, so she put up a struggle for good measure. Despite her weak demand, he held onto her tighter while she kicked her legs and giggled loudly.

Rick shushed her through a widening grin, attempting to finger through his key chain to locate the house key, while she squirmed. "Quiet," he said, slapping her bottom as his own laughter grew.

Just as he stuck the small silver key into the lock, the door opened from inside and Carl greeted them wearing his pajamas and a look of utter mortification. "You guys do know we have neighbors, right?" he scolded, before desperately ushering them inside.

Michonne felt her cheeks grow warm and she put a little more effort into releasing herself from Rick's grasp. He finally let her slide down his front and land her toes on the wooden floor of their foyer, before taking her shoes out of her hand.

"How was your night?" he asked Carl, looking unfazed as he stepped aside to hang his keys on the little hook above the entryway table.

The loss of Rick's firm body as a brace made Michonne falter again. Her knees felt like jelly, as she tried to take a step toward their bedroom and away from her adoptive son's judging eyes.

"Good," Carl said distractedly as he watched her steady herself and continue her silent retreat. He turned back to his father once she was around the corner and out of sight. Rick was still standing at the door, looking completely entertained by the sight of her, with his hands on his hips and his own eyes glinting as they stared after her.

"Are you guys drunk?" he asked, sounding more horrified at the thought than Rick would have guessed.

"I just drove us here," he replied, "What do you think?"

"I think Michonne is," Carl said, allowing a little smirk to play on his face.

"Michonne's having a good night. She deserves it."

"Alright," Carl allowed. He had observed enough to understand that statement. "You'd better go make sure she doesn't hurt herself getting into bed."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Rick assured him. "You should be in bed too."

"I'm going. I just wanted to make sure you guys got home ok."

Rick dropped his gaze to the video game controller still clutched in Carl's hand, then to the open box of pizza left on the coffee table and gave his son a dubious look. "Well, thanks for looking out," he said with a squint. "Now go to bed."

"Ok. Goodnight, Dad," he said, turning to scurry up the stairs before he was caught.

Rick smiled at the back of Carl's head as he disappeared out of sight, before switching off the living room light and following the path Michonne had made.

"Good thing Andrea and Maggie are going with you tomorrow," he noted, as he came into their bedroom and observed her lying flat on her face in the middle of the bed. "I have a feeling you're going to be napping in the passenger seat on the ride up."

She chose not to respond to his accurate observance, instead rolling onto her back and draping an arm over her eyes to block the light. Rick circled her, coming to stand at the foot of the bed, and leaned over to begin removing her clothes for her. By the time he had her stripped to her panties and a t-shirt, she was lightly snoring and he smiled defeatedly at her position on top of the covers.

He removed his own clothes, then took the spot beside her and switched off the small lamp on their bedside table. There was a light breeze fluttering in through the sheer curtains in the window, making for comfortable sleeping weather, and he turned on his side, gathering her sleeping body into his chest as he began to put his thoughts to bed.

The night before he had held her while she cried, but tonight serenity had returned to her sleeping face. He cursed himself for causing the only hitch in her hard earned revelry with the wall he had accidentally built. They were better than that he knew, but he still hadn't admitted going back to see the infant today, or the fact that it hadn't just upset him to hold her, but it had stirred opposing feelings of rage and devotion that only a parent could mingle. No, he hadn't told her that, or that he was going back there tomorrow to see that woman who had everything Michonne deserved, and to punish her for not being worthy. He decided to still keep that to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick drummed his fingers nervously on the armrest of his cruiser, as he sat in the parking lot of the hospital. He had suggested splitting duties with Daryl again, sending him to the jail to oversee a prisoner transfer, while he completed their first patrol. It hadn't gone without a questioning look from his observant partner, but he had complied and here he was alone.

He still wasn't sure why he was there. After seeing that tiny, innocent face, lying alone in the nursery the day before, Patricia's rebuke had worn off and he had resolved to personally deliver that woman to jail. However, Patricia had promised to call if the woman woke up, so his official duties were on hold for the time being, and yet he had still come.

He glanced at his watch, realizing Michonne would be done with her appointment by now, and hopefully enjoying a relaxing lunch with Andrea. A new feeling of uncertainty about keeping this from her flowed through him. Not only was he still pondering his promise not to allow anything between them to go unsaid, but he also missed her advice. He wanted her to look into his murky brain and tell him why he was really there. He pulled out his phone to send her a message before heading inside. Even if she couldn't tell him what to do, he could still connect with her and accept the recharge she gave him.

" _How did it go?"_ he typed, holding the phone in his palm while he waited for her reply, which came almost immediately.

" _Never thought being stuck with a bunch of tiny needles could be the best part of my day."_

Rick laughed out loud, his warm breath mixing with the already humid air. He respected Michonne's desire for minimal intervention, incorporating as many natural practices as possible to aid what little her doctor was doing, but he still wasn't sure how being a human pin cushion was going to help them have a baby. Yoga, herbal tea, supplements, he could get behind that, but Michonne had fallen in love with the diminutive, elderly practitioner, who barely spoke any English. A friend of hers had recommended it, and whenever she had a session with her she came out relaxed and inspired. That alone was worth it.

" _Few more days and I'm gonna stick you with something bigger,"_ he typed, smiling to himself as he pictured her face as she read his reply.

" _You are so crude, Grimes. But I love it. Be safe and I'll see you a few hours."_

He contemplated a more explicit retort, but decided to stop procrastinating and do what he came to do. Typing a quick goodbye and leaving his cruiser, he made the trek across the broiling parking lot, entering through the emergency room doors and heading for the main elevator. The doors opened and he stepped aside in anticipation of the passenger who was exiting, before realizing it was Doctor Cloyd.

"Denise," he said, startling the woman. Her face was red and her dark rimmed glasses rested on her thumb and forefinger as she lifted them to rub at her swollen eyes.

"Rick, hey." Denise sniffed loudly and stepped aside, allowing a man to pass who had been waiting to take her place on the car. "Long time, no see."

"Everything ok?" Rick asked, placing a hand on her elbow and gently leading them to the other side of the corridor.

"Just a patient of mine," she said. "She didn't make it."

Rick squinted at her, realization dawning on him. Dr. Cloyd worked at the rehab center, and he didn't think there was more than one person at this little hospital who could have fit that description. "The woman who just had the baby?" he asked, lowering his voice to a confidential tone.

Denise looked him up and down, her own awareness of the situation growing. "Is that why you're here? You were gonna…"

"I was just checking in," he said, comfortable with the level of truthfulness in his statement. "I was on the call when she came in."

Denise nodded, understanding that neither of them could say much more due to the constraints of their professions. They stood in silence for a moment, each pondering their shifted perspectives. "She was clean you know," the doctor finally whispered. "From the day she found out she was pregnant. It was one relapse. She really tried, you know?" Fresh tears sprung from her eyes as she spoke and she tipped her face to the ceiling to keep them from falling.

Rick took a step back and leaned against the wall, running a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. Sadness, guilt, apprehension, all traveled through him in one rush of heat to his face. He could feel the moment materializing in the dampness in his eyes and he blinked them a few times, before settling back on Denise's weary face. "I'm sorry," he said, lacking the ability to express any of the other emotions he was feeling. "I am."

Denise forced a weak smile and placed a hand on his bicep as she responded. "Me too. You have a tough job, Rick. I get that." She left him with a squeeze of her hand. "I'll see you around."

"Take care, Denise."

Rick stayed in the hallway for awhile, unsure of his next move now that everything seemed to have changed. Daryl would be waiting for him, but he hadn't done what he had come to do. Even with his case officially over, and no duty or misplaced anger left to hide behind, he had to admit he still had no intention of leaving without seeing the baby.

He turned to his left, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to get his stagnant blood pumping. All of a sudden, his heart felt more compelled and his brain less sure about seeing the now motherless child, but he knew he wanted to be there for her in that moment. When he reached the nursery on the sixth floor, he looked around for Dr. Wilkes, but didn't see her. Luckily, he did spot Patricia coming out of the glass room, wheeling a bassinet that held a baby dressed in blue from head to toe.

"Rick," she said, noticing him at the same time. "I was going to call you when I got back to my desk."

She gave him another in the list of forced smiles he had been subjected to that day, and he nodded in response. "I already heard."

It was Patricia's turn to nod, unsure of the right thing to say in the situation.

"I'm here to see the baby," he said, breaking the awkward silence.

She scrunched her eyebrows at him, wondering what kept bringing him back there. She hadn't meant to be so hard on him the day before when he was just doing his job, and he looked a little desperate in a way. She softened her expression, her smile turning more genuine. "Child services is on their way," she said, glancing behind her at the nursery, empty now except for one lonely little resident. "You have a few minutes till I get back."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Rick."

Patricia turned to go and Rick stood with his hands on his hips, watching her disappear down the hallway, before heading to the nursery door. He stopped at the hand sanitizer like he had done the day before, then walked over to his new friend. He let out a long breath when he saw her, eyes closed in a blissful sleep and naive to the heartache she was about to inherit. Without a thought, he reached in and scooped up the tiny bundle, cupping her little head in his palm and easing her into the crook of his arm.

"You don't know it yet," he sighed, "but this is a tough day for you. Fact is you're probably going to have a few more of 'em. It's not fair, none of it is, but I guess life is like that. I've had a few tough ones myself, but then things started getting better one day. They will for you, too. I could tell the minute you were born you were going to tackle whatever life threw at you."

He lifted the still sleeping baby to his shoulder, pressing his lips to her hatted head and wandered over to the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery, taking a seat. He let his eyes slip closed as he breathed in her scent, powder and formula, mixed with a the flowery laundry detergent smell from her blanket. She breathed in and out softly against his chest and his hand found an innate rhythm, patting her back while he rocked. "You're gonna be ok, little one," he whispered. "I promise."

"I don't mean to interrupt," he heard a soft voice say, and his eyes popped open. He looked to the doorway to see a dark skinned man with a bald head and kind eyes. Their paths had crossed a few times in his professional dealings with Child Protective Services, and he recognized him immediately.

"Hi Father," Rick greeted, careful not to disturb the infant's peaceful slumber.

The priest turned social worker grinned at him, folding his hands in front of his belly and leaning back on his heels. "Call me Gabriel, Rick. I'm not Father anymore."

"Sorry. Gabriel. I was just keeping her company until you got here."

Gabe took a few steps into the room and came to lean against the counter near Rick's chair. "Do you know her?" he asked, focusing his gaze on the sleeping child.

"Known her her whole life," Rick quipped. "I was there when she was delivered."

"Ah, yes. I heard that she has had quite the introduction to the world." He regarded Rick's expression thoughtfully, his own eyes gleaming with the kind of compassion that drove him into his current work. "And you came back to see her off?"

"I didn't know that's what I'd be doing when I came. Truth is I was supposed to be here for the mother," Rick admitted. The moral discourse he had been wrestling with over the last forty-eight hours felt well-suited for his new companion; if he couldn't get Michonne's counsel, this would have to do. Maybe that should be part of his confession as well, the fact that he was still holding this back from her, despite promising not to.

Gabe tilted his head slightly, moving his gaze from the baby to Rick as he silently urged him to continue what he knew he needed to say.

"I know we're not supposed to feel envy, or judge one another," Rick said, appealing to the man's theological roots. "But truth is, I've been cursing that woman since the day I met her. I don't know how someone could be so selfish, so...weak." He took a breath, biting back the hiss that had crept into his voice. "I wanted to make sure she paid for it...I guess she did," he sighed. "Now this one will."

"To be human is to be weak, Rick," Gabe said, lacing his fingers on his lap, like he was praying. "But we can also have moments of incredible strength. That young girl was strong for nine months, when it mattered. She failed at the end, but she is only human."

"My wife," Rick said, his voice shaking with emotion before he managed to steel it. "My wife is the strongest person I know. She never chooses the easy option, never feels sorry for herself. She never loses hope, even though time and time again she's disappointed. Then there's people like that, who throw away the gifts they've been given. I don't understand it."

"I see," Gabriel replied, accepting the invitation into the source of the raw emotion he was witnessing. "We are tested by the Lord every day, Rick. And we fail Him every single day. But we are not judged on those failures, or rewarded for those successes. He judges us on the way we treat others who fail alongside us, on the compassion we can show our fellow man."

"I guess I'm doing a poor job at that," Rick admitted, dropping his gaze to the ground.

"You're here for a reason," Gabe said. "This one, this little helpless creature, you're showing great compassion here."

"She didn't do anythang wrong. She was just...born. And then left alone."

"She wasn't born alone, and she's not alone now." He pressed his hand into Rick's shoulder and sighed. "I can not pretend to understand why things happen the way they do. That is for one far greater than me, but I think sometimes, if we look beyond the way we think things should go, we'll see we are right where we are supposed to be."

Rick looked down at the infant in his arms, wondering how it was possible this was where she was supposed to be, headed off to be bounced around from stranger to stranger, with no one to call her own, or how this place of constant disappointment and unfulfillment could be where Michonne was supposed to be.

He'd never been a religious man. Hershel had tried his best to impart some of his faith based wisdom on him throughout the years with little luck, but Michonne believed in this type of thing, a higher plan, a reason for things beyond just luck and chaos. He was hoping Gabriel might help him see how all of that made any sense here, but he was left feeling even more frustrated. There was no one to blame, no justice to be served, just another person born trying to survive in a painful world.

He stood from the rocking chair, readying himself to hand over the baby who was puffing out tiny snores from her lips as she slept. "I guess you need to take her now," he said, checking that the tucked ends of her blanket were secure. "Do you know where she's going?"

"She'll be in a foster home in town. If you'd like to keep in contact, I could make that happen."

Gabe was smiling at him, and Rick's lips parted to speak, but his tongue couldn't read his heart's response, or figure out how he would accept that invitation without Michonne. "I'll call you," he finally answered, carefully placing the baby in Gabe's arms.

"Alright then," he said. "I'll look forward to hearing from you." He settled the baby in his arm and reached down to grab the briefcase he had left sitting by the door, before giving him one last smile. "I'll keep her safe, Rick. I'm supposed to. I will." He turned to go and Rick watched him as he crossed out of the room and into the hallway.

"Gabe," he called, before he got out of sight. The man stopped, looking back at him. "What's her name?"

"We're calling her Judith," he said proudly. "She has suffered a great loss, yet remains strong, like her biblical namesake."

"Judith," Rick repeated with a smile. "I think that's a fine name."

…

Rick could hear Maggie's voice as soon as he opened his front door, and he almost groaned at the sound. His brain was still on overdrive from the afternoon and, though he loved her like family, her presence meant there was more work to be done before he could enjoy his Saturday night. He spotted her next to his mother, seated in the dining room with paperwork spread across the table before them, while Michonne paced behind their chairs.

Looking up at the sound of his boots on the floor, his wife gifted him a beaming smile, before padding on bare feet over to greet him. "Thought you convinced her to take the day off?" he asked, tipping his chin to press a kiss to her jaw.

"I tried. Listen, go get changed and join us, we have a couple items to discuss."

She was fully in campaign mode and he had to admit, as much as he was looking forward to putting his feet up, he did enjoy the way her voice turned authoritative, and her brown eyes deepened a shade when she was taking charge. "Everything go ok today?" he asked, ignoring her directive for a moment to take a good look at her legs in the cut off jean shorts she was wearing.

"It went great," she smiled, wrapping a hand around his waist and gently pushing him toward their bedroom. "Come right back."

"Ok," he agreed. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Maggie."

The two women barely looked up from their task, each offering him a quick wave as he passed.

Once he had changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and popped open a beer, he rejoined them, leaning on the back of the chair that Michonne had taken. He peered over her shoulder, ready to be caught up.

"So the numbers are good," Maggie said, pointing to a printed bar-graph she was holding in front of Michonne. "But I think we need at least one more big event before the election, specifically targeting the local business community. Gregory is active with the Chamber of Commerce, so he's made some real headway there."

"We can get some face time with some of the small business owners," Michonne agreed. "Remind them how Rick's drug bust helped lower the crime rate. That directly impacted them and we should make sure they don't forget it."

Rick nodded, looking down at the top of Michonne's head as she took in the report. "Morgan offered a place," he said. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm thinkin' fancier," their young P.R. star beamed. "We'll plan the victory party at Morgan's, but I'm envisioning a wine and dine style soiree."

The pretentious term had Rick's eyes already rolling back in his head, and Michonne didn't miss his reaction. "Rick, these are the types of things we talked about," she gently soothed. "The luncheons and county fairs are part of it, but you already have the little old lady vote in the bag."

Carl snickered loudly from his previously unnoticed spot in the living room and Rick shot him a look over his shoulder. "We have time to throw something like that together?" he asked. "We're a couple months out from the election."

"I can do it," Maggie assured him, looking equal parts determined and excited. "We'll plan it for next month."

"Alright," he agreed. "Just tell me what you need me to do."

"Let Michonne dress you and tell you what to say and we'll take care of the rest," his mother chimed in.

"I'm all yours," Rick acquiesced, squeezing his wife's shoulder, as she smiled up at him.

"It'll be fine," she assured him, with a hand on his. "Just turn on that country charm and we'll sure up the last of the votes and you can get to doing what you do best."

"You two stayin' for dinner?" Rick asked, pointing the bottom of his almost empty beer bottle between his mother and Maggie.

"No, I have a casserole I plan on cooking tonight," Rebeccah answered, pushing her chair out and moving to join Carl before saying good bye.

"And I am headed out with Glenn." Maggie followed suit, reaching for her purse across the table and digging around for her keys.

"Two nights in a row," Rick remarked. "That's youth for you." He smiled at Michonne, looking forward to dinner and some quiet time with his family after their previous late night, and he was betting on her being ready for the same.

"Rest up then, old man," Maggie joked. "The next few weeks are going to be chock full and then we get to top it off by celebrating a win on Election Night."

"Let's hope so," he said, walking her to the front door. "And Maggie, Deanna was right about you. You're doing a great job. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Rick," she answered, giving him a parting hug. "I believe in you."

…

"Carl doesn't want to hang out with us after we embarrassed him last night?" Rick collapsed onto the sofa, putting his arms out for Michonne to join him. The teenager had escaped upstairs as soon as dinner was done and the kitchen was cleared, closing the door and requesting not to be disturbed.

"I think he's talking to a girl," Michonne whispered, settling in beside him and reaching for the remote. "He's been texting all day with a huge smile on his face, but he was really vague when I asked him about it."

Rick furrowed his brow, unsure of his feelings on this new information, but he noted that Michonne seemed unaffected, and so he decided to let it be for the moment. "I guess we shouldn't be giving him any ideas, then," he joked. He let his hand travel under her shirt, rubbing little circles on the soft skin of her hip.

"Speak for yourself," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You're the one getting handsy on the front steps."

"I can't help my hands, Michonne." He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her shorts to prove his point and she broke into a smile.

"Tell me about your day," she said, stopping his futile pursuit with her fingers around his wrist. "Anything exciting?"

Rick moved his hands to her tummy as she leaned backwards into him, and let out a sigh. The opportunity kept presenting itself for him to tell her about the little blue eyed girl that he handed off today, and the way he had rocked her until Gabe came to take her away. It felt like he was giving away a piece of his heart and he didn't understand why. She would know why, he thought, why he had to see Judith that afternoon. She was the one who could explain it to him, and maybe that was what kept him from asking. The idea that if she knew she would take some of that on.

"The mother of the baby born in the ambulance," he started, feeling her out. "She didn't make it." Michonne turned her shoulders in his arms and searched his face as he spoke, reading him. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. "I ran into Denise Cloyd at the hospital," he continued. "She knew her. She told me she was clean, right up until. The baby's going to be fine. Alone, but healthy."

Michonne wasn't saying anything in response, and he tipped his head back up, chancing a glance through barely open lids. She was frowning, her own eyes squinted in contemplation. "And you feel guilty," she guessed, putting hammer to nail the way he expected. "About being angry."

"I feel a lot of thangs," he said, truthfully.

"I feel sad," she admitted, causing him to open his eyes further to look at her. "I'm sad that that girl didn't get to meet her baby. I'm sad that that baby might not know that her mother tried her best, and I'm sad that we don't have our own baby, to do right by. I think it's ok to feel all of those things at once."

Rick regarded the compassion in her melancholy smile, once again in awe of her unending strength when his faltered. "Maybe it is," he agreed, quietly. Sad was the best he could come up with too. The whole situation was sad, and frankly he wanted nothing more than to put down any sadness in the world before it got to her. He kissed the top of her head and nudged her hand that held the remote, urging her to put some distraction on the television so they could both turn their brains off.

"Michonne," he said quietly, when she had settled on a movie she wanted to watch and snuggled herself under his arm again. "How many more days? Till we can try again."

"Beginning of the month," she said, tipping her head to look at him.

Rick furrowed his brow, doing a quick math equation in his head. "Over the long weekend then?"

"Mmmhmm," she hummed, turning her attention back to the television.

"Let's go away. For the weekend. Really focus on it."

"Rick, we have the Labor Day parade. You have to show up."

"Ok then, just Friday and Saturday night. Come on," he whispered, dropping his mouth to the spot on her neck that he reserved for his most cunning persuasions. "We can take two nights."

She sighed heavily, allowing him to be convincing. "We've tried this before. Hotel sex isn't a magic solution."

"Humor me," he said, pulling away and catching her gaze.

"Fine," she agreed with a smile. "Two nights."

"Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Hi everyone, thanks so much for your feedback and follows and favorites. You all are making my day with these in depth reviews. I'm so excited that you care enough to put so much thought into your feedback. Thank, you, thank you, thank you!

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Rick meandered around their bedroom, pulling assorted items from both his closet and a laundry basket of clean clothes, and packing them into the large suitcase splayed open on top of the bed. Michonne was running a few last minute errands for their trip to Atlanta, where they planning on remaining in the downtown suite they had booked for the entire trip. He had made her promise not to discuss the campaign or work for the full 48 hours, so she was out now, getting it all out of her system before they left.

He heard the door open as he was zipping up his bag and he called out from the room, assuming it was his mother coming to pick Carl up. The boy had begged to be left alone for the weekend, to Michonne's and his amusement, but he had finally accepted his short stay at his grandmother's house when Rebeccah had promised him a full spread of all his favorite foods and a little bit of video game time.

"I'm in here," he called, tossing the suitcase on the floor and rounding the corner to the living room, where he was surprised to find Sasha and Michonne greeting him instead of Rebeccah. "Hey, Sasha," he said, after stepping to give Michonne a kiss on her cheek. "What's going on?"

"I asked Sasha to come by and do the shot for me this time," Michonne answered, waltzing into the kitchen to get her guest a beverage.

Rick frowned at the back of her head as she avoided his eyes. He had been administering the little trigger shot in her upper thigh for the last few months, a boost of hormones that had to be timed just right to help their chances of conceiving. She'd asked him to do it and the doctor had showed him how; he didn't understand the sudden gameday substitution. "You don't want me to do it anymore?" he asked, feeling a little wounded.

"Rick," she said gently, shooting Sasha a quick look. "I love you, but you're kind of...rough."

Sasha tried to mask a chuckle with a little cough and took a step back to remove herself from the conversation.

"You never said that before," he argued, taken aback by the new complaint.

"I know, baby, but Sasha offered to do it and she's trained. Let's just get it done and we can take off and relax for the entire weekend," she stepped toward him, saving her last words for his ears only. "Then you can be as rough as you want."

Rick held his hands up in surrender, turning over his shoulder and heading off to the living room, her suggestive invitation doing little to ease his bruised ego.

"Come on," Michonne said to Sasha, the two women sharing an amused look before heading down the hall to the bedroom.

Rick took a seat on the couch, deciding to wait for his betrayers in silence, but Carl came bounding down the stairs just in time to join him. "Where's Michonne?" he asked, looking around the quiet house. "I heard her come in."

"She's in the other room with Sasha, she'll be out in a bit. You got everything you need? Your grandmother will be here any minute."

"Yeah, Dad," he answered with a little eye roll. "I still don't see why I can't stay here while you two go off on your baby making trip."

Rick felt his cheeks flush at his son's astute observation. He wasn't sure how much Carl picked up about their situation. He was aware that they were trying to grow their family, and that despite getting his opinion on that nearly two years ago, they still remained a party of three. But needless to say, they kept the finer details between the two of them. He cleared his throat awkwardly, scrambling for an appropriate response. "You know you're too young to stay that long by yourself, Carl. What if there were an emergency? You can't even drive."

"Fine," he pouted. "So is this gonna work finally?" the young man asked, eyeing his father expectantly.

"Carl," Rick muttered, completely unprepared to be having this conversation. He wished he could switch places with Michonne and take a needle in the leg in lieu of the questions he was being hit with, but no such luck. "Do you understand what's going on here?"

"I know you guys are trying to have a baby, and every few weeks Michonne gets sad and you get that overprotective 'don't look at her' face with anyone who tries to talk about it. I figured it would be more like her throwing up and eating ice cream and pickles and stuff."

Rick laughed at his adolescent comprehension of the process, though he filed it away for deeper discussion given the tidbit Michonne had shared with him about Carl's new female friend. "Look, this is something Michonne and I want and we've been trying a long time," he said, hoping the specifics of the attempt could be left unsaid for the moment. "Longer than you've probably been aware of, but just because you want something doesn't mean you just get it. It hasn't been easy on her, so we're gonna take some time this weekend and try to just relax and spend some time together."

Carl nodded, seemingly putting pieces together in his head as he held Rick's breath hostage with his silence. "And what about you?" he finally asked, squinting at his father in an inherited manner. "It hasn't been easy on you either, right?"

Rick pulled in a deep breath, taking his bottom lip between his teeth while he contemplated both the question and the answer. He hadn't realized the extent of the toll the situation was taking on him, nor had he expected his son to be the one to ask him about it. He had no prepared statement to recite, like he did when someone asked how Michonne was doing. "I guess it hasn't," he admitted. "I don't like not being able to give this to her. She's given us so much."

The boy took a step forward, dropping heavily into the seat beside his father and placing his hand on his shoulder. "I hope it happens," he said. "You both deserve it."

"Thanks, Carl," he smiled sincerely. "I hope so, too."

…

Rick woke to the mattress beside him dipping and rolling under Michonne's weight. The room was dark, a tiny sliver of light peeking through where the heavy drapes met, and allowing him the only clue as to the morning's arrival. They had both passed out early the night before, having started their evening with a romantic, candle lit meal in the city, followed by a less romantic, more carnal encounter in their hotel room that left them both sated and drowsy. Michonne had the foresight to crawl out of bed before they both succumbed, and close the curtains on their skyline view, enveloping them in darkness and making for a late morning.

He lifted his head from the pillow to see her unzipping a small travel bag to quietly retrieve the little thermometer that she had a standing morning date with, and he quickly rolled his body onto hers, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to stop her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at the sudden assault.

"Let's skip it." He took the device out of her fingers and pulled her hand to his lips, kissing his way down her forearm.

"Rick…"

"You don't need to, Michonne. You did the shot," he reminded her with a slight sidewards glance at his exclusion. "For the next forty-eight hours it's just you and me and this bed. We aren't going to miss the window, so let's just relax, trust it."

She eyed him wearily, obviously nervous to let go of the habit she had become so fastidious in, measuring her body's temperature to the tiniest degree to identify the exact moment when they would have the best chance to conceive. It had been a morning ritual for months now.

He slid his way down her body, playfully nipping at her sides and tummy through the soft, luxurious hotel sheets. "You don't need it," he promised again, finally lifting his head to see her developing smile.

"Ok," she agreed, reluctantly. "I'll trust it."

"Good." He gave her a cocky grin as he pressed his hardening bulge into her hip, but it quickly turned to a tender smile. The adoration he felt for her on a daily basis doubled in strength at the vulnerability in her eyes, and he brought a hand to her face, cupping her cheek to kiss her softly. "Let's give it another try."

"Let's," she whispered.

 **...**

"I know I say this every time, but I feel good about that one. I think that might have done it."

Michonne giggled at him, still finding his self assured predictions adorable, even though they continued to be unfulfilled. "I hope you're right," she said, laying her head on his chest as it continued to rise and fall rapidly.

"Are you gonna do your thang?" He nodded his chin toward the headboard behind him, expecting her usual post coital acrobatics: crossing her legs in the air, tipping her hips to the sky and laying like that for as long as she could.

She shook her head, reaching behind her and pulling the sheet up over their still entwined bodies. "No. There are enough variables in this process, I don't need to focus on the silly ones."

He responded with a slight frown, settling his arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head. A hint of surrender had started to creep over her the last couple months and it worried him.

"You know, when they said it could take up to a year, I thought…'no way.'" She let out a soft chuckle, taking the opportunity that their solitude and intimate position provided to speak candidly. "You and I are both overachievers. I was banking on a couple months. But then that twelfth month ticked by on the calendar and we started talking about temperatures, and ovulation cycles, and needles. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Me either," he agreed quietly, tightening his grip on her.

"And it's been eight more months since then. Eight times that we've been disappointed since realizing there's a reason to be."

"I'm sorry. I wish...I wish I could make it happen right now for you."

"Don't, Rick," she said, propping her head up to look at him. "Don't take on guilt over this. It's not something I'm asking of you, it's something I want with you. For us both."

"I know that," he promised. "I want it for us, too." He fell silent for a moment, before remembering someone else who had expressed a vested interest. "Carl said he's rooting for us," he chuckled. "Called this a baby making trip."

Michonne winced at the awkwardness that had to have gone along with that encounter.

"Yeah," he said, dragging the word out. "He's got a better idea about this than we thought. Sort of."

Michonne hummed a response, pondering what exactly he had picked up on. They didn't want to burden him with disappointment, and they'd saved the talks about the procedures and appointments and all of that for when he wasn't around, but they couldn't completely hide it from him. "Is that why you were so eager this month? Why you wanted to come here and focus on it?" She used her fingers to quote the expression he had used.

"I'm always on board, Michonne," he said, worried that he had given her the impression that his interest was waning.

"I know, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, you seem reinvigorated this month."

"No," he smiled. "He just dropped that one on me on the way out yesterday...that's not why." He breathed out a long sigh, thoughts of Judith swarming his head again. It had been a week since he had last seen her and he hadn't stopped thinking about the little girl, or the sounds she made as she slept peacefully on his chest and the way her whole body practically fit in the palm of his hand. That feeling that had filled him when he held her, rocked her, handed her off, it had spurred something in him. From that moment on, he knew he needed this just as much as Michonne. He hadn't told her any of that, but she picked up on it anyway. Now, with their flesh pressed together and their breathing in sync, her body carrying a piece of him, it seemed impossible to maintain the distance the omission was putting between them. He reached out, twirling one of her locs between his fingers and pulled in the breath he would use to try to explain it to her. "I've been going to see the baby from the ambulance," he stuttered out, nervously.

Michonne lifted her head again, this time pushing up on her forearms to maintain the eye contact. "The one Sasha delivered? When?" her voice sounded startled and he retracted slightly, dropping her hair and resting his hand idly on the bed beside them.

"It's been awhile, but I went to see her at the hospital, the first couple days after she was born." He took a deep breath, rolling with her so she was on her back, and he hovered above her with a palm on the soft skin of her cheek. He wanted to really see her, feel her reaction in case the question he had been asking himself was answered in it. "I was there, Michonne," he whispered, "when she came into this world. Holding her like that, right from the start, it made me think about Carl, and us, our baby...the one we want to have, and I felt somethan'. When I found out her mother died, I figured maybe she would recognize me, feel safer, and I went back a second time just to be with her, so she wouldn't be alone. I was there when she was born, and I was there when the social worker took her and...it just... it broke my heart a little bit- to hand her off like that."

"Rick," she whispered, before her voice caught in her throat. He could tell her own heart was being pushed and prodded by his words and the thought pained him. He almost stopped there, almost told her it was nothing, but she had already seen him. She was studying his face and he knew he couldn't hide. He closed his eyes for a minute, leaving her gaze and refocusing on the tufted, fabric headboard above her. The design was like an optical illusion, a complex, multi-layered pattern embedded in the chaos if you stared long enough, and he watched it emerge as he spoke again.

"I know she's not mine," he continued, his voice coming out as weak as the grasp he had on what he was confessing, "but I felt like I needed to protect her. Like I was put there to do it." He dropped his chin to his chest, shaking his head. "I don't even know if I believe in that stuff...fate. I just had to see her, to make sure she was ok. Anyway, she was moved to a foster home, and the social worker, I know him from workin' together on a few calls, he said I could see her again if I wanted. I told him I'd call him and...I don't know why, but I want to do it."

Michonne stared up at him, her eyes flickering like a flame battered by the wind, as she tried to take in all that he had just unloaded on her. "Rick," she said finally, "when I told you I didn't want to go through this alone, I meant I don't want either of us to go through this alone. This affected you...but you thought you couldn't tell me. I don't understand why." Her eyes were glistening, her voice thick with a mixture of both sympathy and pain, and he felt his chest tighten again. The lightness he felt from releasing the words was quickly being replaced by the guilt of keeping them in in the first place.

"It wasn't that," he said, shifting his weight so he could take her face in his hands and make her hear his words. "I didn't keep it from you because I thought you'd be upset, or because I was trying to go through somethan' without you. I didn't tell you because I didn't know what there was to tell. I didn't know how to put it into words, because I was still tryin' to figure it out what it was I was feelin'."

Her face softened a little in his hands, and she nodded. "And did you?" Figure it out?"

"I'm still working on it," he confessed. He lowered his head onto her shoulder, her fingers finding his hair like he'd hoped they would. "But I know I need to see her again, and make sure that wherever she is, she's safe. I want you to come with me," he said, rolling his head so his lips brushed her ear.

"Why?"

Her voice was barely a whisper and he pulled her in tighter, closing his eyes and hoping it wasn't more pain that had stolen her volume. "I don't know why, but I know I don't want to do it without you. It feels like something we should do together."

"You need to do this?" she asked.

"I do."

"Ok," she breathed, holding him against her. "I'll go with you."

Relief relaxed his shoulders, melting them into her embrace, and she quietly toyed with his hair as they both took their time with what they'd just decided. He could feel her hesitancy; she'd agreed because he'd asked, but she knew just like he did, there was something more behind his request. There was some reason he couldn't get Judith out of his mind, he just hoped seeing her again would tell him what it was.

…

It was early evening before they began to feel restless within the four walls of their hotel room, still earlier than they had expected to be leaving their bed. They didn't get to the city much for pleasure though, and Michonne decided since she did pack some clothes for the trip, they should at least get dressed once per day. She was in the bathroom, wrapping her hair in a bun and opting not to bother with makeup given the hot and humid day, while Rick lounged on the bed, flipping through the channels on the television to pass the time. She was tying one last loc up away from her face when she heard her cell phone ringing from the bedside table in the room.

"Who is it?" she called to Rick, her teeth closed around a hair clip as she spoke.

She heard the mattress squeak slightly as he rolled over to identify the caller before answering her. "It's Maggie. I'm ignorin' it."

"Stop," she chided, peeking her head around the doorway to see him. "Answer it."

He gave in begrudgingly and pulled the phone to his ear, keeping his eyes on the show he was watching. "This must be really important," he said, in lieu of a greeting, and Michonne cut him a look as she waltzed back into the room.

"I called you first," Maggie huffed. "So I wouldn't have to bother Michonne, per your instructions, but you didn't answer."

"What's going on?"

"We have a problem. Looks like Gregory was just biding his time with all this playin' fair. He's decided to go dirty with nine weeks to go."

"Put it on speaker" Michonne said, getting antsy at trying to decipher the conversation from Rick's face.

"Hold on, Maggie." He pressed the little button on her phone to bring them all into the conversation. "Michonne is here, too."

"Like I was sayin'," she continued, barely missing a beat, "I got a call from a reporter asking for a response to Gregory's recent comments about Rick's incident with Merle way back. And he's got a new ad out that more than hints at it."

Rick's lip curled up a little in distaste for his slimy opponent. "We had a gentleman's agreement," he sneered. "No negative campaigning."

"Well, Gregory is no gentleman, and we shouldn't have banked on him bein' one.

"He must have seen Rick's jump in the poll numbers after the debate last month," Michonne suggested. "Now he's coming out swinging because he's in a corner."

"He doesn't have anything to say that people don't already know," Rick said, mostly to Michonne.

"I know it, but I don't like his timing," Maggie said. "He's puttin' it back in people's minds with not a lot of time to hit back. And he's making it a bigger issue-he's tryin' to say Sheriff Dion ran a loose ship, and you'll be more of the same."

"When's the reporter want to print his response?" Michonne asked, taking a seat next to Rick and taking the phone from him.

"Not till Tuesday 'cause of the holiday. I'll come up with a statement. I don't want to bother you guys, but I didn't want you blindsided when you get home."

"Thanks, Maggie," Rick said. "We'll deal with it when we get back."

"Alright then. I'll see you then. Good luck."

Michonne hung up the phone and fell backwards onto the bed with a sigh. "Should of known we wouldn't get a whole weekend."

"We're still here. Maggie will take care of it." He lay back beside her, letting his fingers trace the strap of the silky, bold patterned dress she had put on. "Let's go get somethin' to eat and come back and keep focusing."

Michonne let out a weary chuckle. He was always very convincing when he wanted her to separate work from play. "Ok," she agreed. "I want to take you to one of my favorite places when I lived here."

"As long as they have real food, we can go wherever you want."

…

"So this is it, huh?" Rick held his glass over the railing, looking out over the blushing skyline from the rooftop bar, while Michonne beamed beside him. They'd finished dinner in the restaurant below and, wanting to save the best for last, she'd led him to this spot for a nightcap.

"This is it."

"When you told me that story, I have to admit, I was focused on the New Year's dress part, but this is amazing."

Michonne chuckled, remembering the private countdown they'd shared one New Year's Eve, when he'd asked her to recall a moment she had spent in this spot, celebrating a life she barely thought about anymore. Looking back, that trip had been a countdown to the start of her life with him and she cherished the memory. She slid between him and the railing and wrapped his free hand around her waist. "It is amazing," she agreed. "I had a lot of great times here, but it was quickly replaced as my favorite by a little hole in the wall where a bunch of cowboys hang out."

"Who woulda thought?"

"Not in a million years."

"Do you miss it?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink and looking down at the bustling street below them.

"Never."

He smiled, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Sometimes I think about how crazy it is that my whole world had to fall apart to be able to find this with you."

"Me too," she said, leaning her head back onto his shoulder and weighing all that had to go wrong for them to find something so right. Her world imploding had been the impetus to the biggest plot twist of her life, and it had given her everything she now adored. She sensed a similar change in the air now, like they were on the cusp of something, the place where it all pivoted. Sure, they were trying to have a baby and he was about to win an elected office, two things that were going to change their lives significantly, but it was something else, something she hadn't expected in his voice earlier and it had her mind racing. "As hard as it was, going through all of that," she said, "I wouldn't trade any of it."

"Neither would I."

She took his glass from him, stealing a sip, and he chuckled at the way her face crinkled up at the taste, like it always did. "Maybe you could skip the getting shot part, if we had a do over," she joked, trying to shake the reflective mood that had settled over her.

"Nah. It all happened the way it was supposed to." He sighed, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of her hair. "Maybe I'd skip the thing with Merle, since it's still causing problems."

"Hmmm. That's real close to campaign talk, Deputy."

He smiled at being called out, and playfully pinched her side. "You're gonna have to start calling me Sheriff pretty soon."

"Is that so?" she smirked. "Feeling confident tonight?"

"I feel like I'm on top of the world," he joked, gesturing to where they stood.

She laughed at him again, turning in his embrace and taking in the contentment on his face. "Well, you told me once that I could call you whatever I wanted."

"That's true," he smiled, recalling their first date and the other firsts they'd shared that night. "That was smooth of me."

"I fell for it...for you."

His smiling eyes turned intense again, the way they tended to do when she was in his space. He dropped his mouth to her ear, eliciting a giggle from her at his public display. "Tell me about the dress."

"Let's see," she said, pretending to have to think about it. "It was black, and tight. Strapless of course...and probably way too short."

His hand slipped from her waist, moving lower to toy with the hem of her dress, coming dangerously close to slipping underneath.

"You're gonna get us kicked out of here," she whispered.

"Good. I'm ready to go back."

"Ok," she agreed, her tone just as desperate. "Let's go."

…

The cold, dry air of the air conditioning roused her from her well earned sleep, and Michonne turned her head to see the room was now only dimly lit by the cityscape, the sun having long since set. They were still wrapped up in each other and the sheet, having barely separated before passing out.

She stretched her arms above her head, her hips immobilized by Rick's possessive embrace, and she contemplated how to remove herself without waking him. He was perfectly still, his typical desultory movements paralyzed by exhaustion and she knew she only had a short window to escape. She lifted his arm carefully, slipping away while he rolled onto his stomach, and she crept across the room toward the machine that was tirelessly working to keep their room tempered against the humid air. She adjusted the setting and the fan quieted, giving way to the soft sound of Rick's breathing.

She stood naked before the sliding glass doors, obscured by the darkness of their room, and the bluish lights from the buildings reflected off of the smooth lines of her body. She'd hurried them back to their hotel earlier, rushing to make the kind of furious love that wasn't suited for heart to hearts or soul baring declarations. Rick was all consuming, the intensity with which he loved her didn't allow for distraction or wandering thoughts, and she wanted to be engulfed by him. But like usual when she tried to put off a conversation with her heart, it had eventually demanded her attention, and here she was alone with her thoughts.

On the street below, people pushed in and out of restaurants and clubs, still full of energy, and she watched the nightlife play out before her like a distant memory. She'd meant it when she said she never missed it. When she had made the decision to leave this place, and move to the quiet little town she lived in now, she felt as if she was giving up, running away from everything she had worked so hard for, but Rick was right: they'd found gold in the ruins of all their plans. She pondered that and how it might apply to the place they were now, and what she thought he might really be asking her to consider. She'd agreed to go and see that little girl with him, and though it wasn't unlike Rick to feel responsibility he didn't actually have, she could tell this wasn't one of those times. He'd already assigned Judith some importance in his life, even if he was struggling to accept that. She knew he wanted her to go with him, to feel what he did and give it a name, but what if she couldn't? What if she didn't want to?

"Michonne," Rick called quietly, startling her from her thoughts. She turned over her shoulder to see him sitting in the dark, watching her. "You alright?"

She nodded, and he reached an arm out to beg her back to him.

"You can't sleep?" he asked, sitting up to greet her at the edge of the bed as she returned. She slipped easily into his embrace again, his hands wandering her bare skin.

"I was cold," she whispered, knowing he would use the excuse to pull her closer. All of a sudden she felt like she couldn't be close enough. She understood what he meant when he said he was feeling something he didn't have a words for. She was feeling it now, too, like door had been opened and she stood nervously awaiting what was about to enter. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she wanted him with her when she met it.

He didn't disappoint, lifting her slightly as she climbed onto his lap and pressed herself against his chest. "I can fix that," he said, as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing a trail down to her breasts. She moved against him until she could feel him respond beneath her, his physical need peaking quickly as she sought his comfort.

He gripped her hips as she came to her knees, ready to take another dose of him to ease her unknown affliction, but he stopped her, holding her in place.

"Are we good?" he asked, his eyes, darting feverishly around her face.

"Always," she whispered.

With a nod, he released his grip on her, and she sank down onto him with a quiet whimper. Rick drew in a hiss of air through his teeth, his hands finding her hair and tugging gently until she tipped her head back, exposing her long neck to his greedy mouth. Her skin was on fire from the scruff of his unshaven face as he devoured her, but she didn't care. The pain reminded her that she'd succeeded in closing any physical distance between them and she savored it. She moved her hips up and down, clinging to his shoulders for leverage and drawing a string of thickly accented profanities from his occupied lips.

Feeling inhibited by his seated position, he scooped his hands beneath her, lifting her and setting her back down on the mattress as he came to rest above her. It was a short reprieve, however, and he hooked an elbow under her knee, tossing her leg around his waist and immediately reclaimed his place inside her. "You know I want this as much as you do, right?" he breathed, struggling to maintain eye contact as his face contorted in pleasure.

"I know, Rick." He didn't need to assure her; his intentions were always playing in his eyes like a movie, and she had seen how committed he was to making this happen for the both of them. That hadn't changed, but something new had settled in beside it. It was clear to her now, more clear than it was to him, that he wanted something else too, or that he was at least entertaining the idea.

She could hear his breath hitching, and feel his muscles contracting beneath her hands as he worked to reach his peak, and to try again to fulfill this dream they had been dreaming together for so long now. His hand slipped between them, beckoning her to follow him and she closed her eyes and prayed for the same thing she always did, for the two of them to complete their family.

He finally spilled into her, his strangled voice professing his love into her ear, and when she met him there she felt tears rush her eyes as her body released. He noticed immediately, always attuned to her, and his thumb came to meet them as they spilled. "What is it?" he asked, his face stricken with worry.

"I don't know," she confessed, her heart thumping nervously in her chest. He accepted that easier than she thought he would, holding her tightly as she composed herself.

"We're going to have everything we want, Michonne," he whispered. He was still covering her with his body, his weight grounding her, and her fingers dug into his skin as she clutched him like a lifeline.

"We are," she said with as much affirmation as she could muster. She might not know what that meant anymore, but she knew with all of her heart that he wouldn't lie to her.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Sorry this update took so long! Between the premiere and a serious case of writer's block, I struggled a bit with it. But here it is. Thank you all for your reads, reviews and follows. I so appreciate it.**

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Rick said goodbye to Shane and Daryl and made his way through the crowd gathered at the end of the parade route, stopping every few minutes to shake hands with people from the town who wanted to express their support and wish him luck in the election. He appreciated it, but he was trying to find Carl and Michonne and his mother, before the speech Deanna had planned.

He spotted Gregory near the steps of the town hall, where Deanna was about to start her annual address, already speaking to the reporter from the local paper. He recognized the young man from the ceremony he took part in after his drug bust, and he figured now was as good a time as any to be photographed shaking his opponent's hand, so he could get back to enjoying the late summer day with his family. He hated this part of the campaign, smiling for the cameras and faking pleasantries, but Michonne would be counting on him to be as charming as possible and he wouldn't disappoint her.

As he made his way to the small circle where Gregory stood, he could hear the conversation he was having with a few potential constituents floating on the breeze, and it piqued his interest.

"The Sheriff's Department's job is to keep you fine people safe," Gregory said, as Rick slipped into the circle unnoticed, "it simply isn't possible without a strong voice at the top, making the rules. We can't have these officers out there practicing by their own codes anymore."

"Deputies," Rick interjected, drawing the attention of Gregory and his handful of supporters. "It's a common mistake from those outside the field, but we go by Deputy, not Officer. Good to see you, Gregory," he greeted, stepping past a couple men to stand before his opponent. He tried to bite back the smirk that was making its way to his face as he approached the older man, reveling in the startled look on his face when he realized Rick had been listening to the soliloquy he was giving.

Gregory looked every bit the politician with his three piece suit and flag pin on his lapel, and Rick removed the white gloves he was still wearing from his parade appearance, sticking them in the back pocket of his uniform, and offered his hand. Gregory accepted it with a hearty shake, quickly recovering from the surprise, and preening at the sight of the flashing cameras behind them. "I see you're breaking in your new talking points," Rick continued.

"Hello Richard," he replied, continuing to use the formal version of Rick's name, despite being the only one to ever do so. "Yes, well I do enjoy being able to come out and speak directly to the people, don't you?"

"I do," he agreed, nodding at a few people he recognized, and greeting them each by name. "How are you enjoying your first King County Labor Day picnic?" Rick smiled smugly as he drew attention to Gregory's late arrival to the community once more, before promising himself to behave.

"It's quite charming," Gregory answered. "Security seems a bit lax, considering half of the police force was marching in the parade instead of patrolling, but I digress."

Rick opened his mouth to offer a retort, but he felt a hand on his back and turned to see Michonne stepping into the spot beside him, Maggie not far behind. He smiled inwardly at their ability to sense when he should stop talking and he welcomed the addition to the conversation. "You remember my wife, Michonne," he said slipping an arm around her waist as she shook Gregory's hand and another round of camera flashes lit up behind them.

"Yes, of course," Gregory said, "And Marcia, good to see you again."

"It's Maggie," she corrected him, unfazed by his tactics. She quickly launched into a list of policy questions for the unsuspecting man, as he stood there with his cheek muscles straining from the forced smile.

Rick felt his phone vibrating in his back pocket and he stepped aside to look at the caller I.D.. Recognizing it immediately as Gabe, he held a finger up to Michonne to excuse himself from the conversation and took a few more steps before answering.

"Rick," Gabe said. "I'm sorry to return your call on the holiday, but I was out of town yesterday."

"It's no problem. I appreciate you calling me back. I wanted to take you up on your offer...to see Judith again. My wife and I, we'd like to visit her if it's still a possibility."

"Of course it is," Gabe said. "I've already arranged for you to be an allowed visitor."

Rick furrowed his brow, surprised to hear that it would be so simple. "How did you know I would call?"

"I just had a feeling," he replied with a grin that Rick could hear through the phone line.

Rick nodded, bringing his free hand to his brow and wiping away a small bead of sweat that was forming in the hot sun. "When can we come by?"

"How about next week?"

"That's fine. I'll call you in a few days to get the details. Thank you, Gabe."

"You're very welcome, Rick. Have a good holiday."

Rick hung up the phone and returned to Michonne's side, relieved to find that Gregory had been replaced by Rebeccah and Carl. He greeted them each just in time for Deanna to take the stage, waiting until the crowd was done applauding, and she had launched into her prepared remarks, before leaning into Michonne's ear.

"That was Gabriel," Rick whispered. "On the phone, before."

Michonne turned away from her boss's spot on the temporary stage that had been built for the day, her attention fully on Rick. "That was quick."

"I know. He said we could visit Judith next week...if you're sure you're up for it."

She turned toward him, attempting to mask her voice from the crowd by speaking into his shoulder. "I told you, Rick, just because I don't have a baby doesn't mean we have to pretend they don't exist."

Rick studied her face, attempting to discern the confidence she had in her reply. "You don't have a baby, yet," he said, his face turning serious. "Not _yet_."

She gave him a smile, deciding to end their conversation before the people standing beside them started to hush them. "It will be fine," she said, patting a hand against his chest. She'd agreed to go, and she would.

…

"Are you looking forward to going back to school this week, Carl?" Rebeccah asked, as she applied the condiments to her hot dog. After Deanna's ceremonial address, they had made their way to the sheltered rows of picnic tables to join the rest of the community for a cookout in the town square.

"I guess so. Michonne has been making me work in the campaign office, so it hasn't been much of a vacation."

"Oh, please," Michonne responded with an incredulous look. "You work a couple hours a day in the air conditioning. It's hardly manual labor."

"She's right," Rick agreed. "This campaign is the only thing that got you outta workin' for Hershel for the summer, mucking stalls."

Carl's face contorted in disgust and he went back to his plate of food, for fear of earning himself any more work when his sentence was almost over.

"So this isn't great," Maggie said, plopping down next to Carl, mid sentence. Hershel trailed behind her, shaking his head at his eldest daughter's inability to take a day off. "Gregory's working the crowd today. Every time I see him he's got someone else's ear. He's treatin' this like a campaign event. A free one."

"Who was in the parade though?" Rick joked, winking at Carl and causing him to snicker.

"Yeah, well maybe you shoulda been marching through the crowd instead. We mighta underestimated this opportunity."

Michonne perked up at the shop talk, leaning over Rick to make sure she could hear everything Maggie was saying. She had been unusually quiet since he had mentioned Gabriel's call, whatever inner monologue she was having seemingly capturing all of her attention, but now she was fully engaged.

"He's gotta do that type of thing here, Mags," Rick said. "He doesn't know any of these people. I grew up with half of 'em and I'm not going to ruin their day off by trying to make speeches."

"Doesn't mean you can't take advantage of the free press," Michonne countered. "Finish eating and shake a few more hands. There's bound to be a few people who you haven't interacted with yet."

"Yeah, alright," he agreed. "I'll head over to Deanna's table after this and get some face time with her circle, but Gregory can have Pete Anderson and his buddies for the day."

Their collective gaze found his opponent in the line for food, laughing with the man whom Rick had assigned as an enemy a long time ago.

"Deal," Michonne said, finding Pete equally repulsive. As far as she was concerned that was a vote they didn't want assigned to Rick's name anyway.

"Alright, Rick," Maggie chimed in, in between bites of pasta salad. "But you need to be prepared to charm those guys in a couple weeks. Did you pick out a suit yet?"

"Michonne's on it," he said casually, to his wife's rolling eyes.

She was on it, but she didn't know how he could be sure, since he had all but forgotten about the event every time she brought it up. She decided since the planning was taking up mental focus that she didn't want to stray elsewhere, and because he was good at showing his appreciation, she would forgive him for his lack of enthusiasm. "I've got that part covered," she said, pinching his arm for good measure. "You do your thing here."

"Deal."

…

Rick shifted the bag he was holding from one arm to the other, as they stepped onto the brick path leading to a modest, white, colonial style home, and he reached down with his now free hand to take Michonne's hand. She had been counting down the days until their visit here since they'd set the date, anxious to get it done, and for Rick to get what he needed from the reunion. Now here they were, mere steps away from whatever this was going to be.

She could sense his relief when they pulled onto the pleasant street, with well kept houses and children playing in the neighboring yards. It was almost enough to convince her that he would be content with it, that he really did just need to see that Judith was well looked after, but now he was gripping her hand nervously as they approached, his bottom lip stationed between his teeth, and her apprehension was creeping in.

They hadn't spoken about what this might mean, what either of them expected out of two people who wanted so badly to have a baby, going to visit one who happened to need a home. She'd been filling the days with work and family matters, trying her best not to over analyze it. She hadn't had the courage to ask him outright about the possible outcomes, but his demeanor now did little to silence the voice inside her head that told her this was a precipice, and when they got to the edge, he was going to be compelled to jump.

"It looks like a nice place," he said, taking in the perfectly manicured flower beds and autumn colored wreath with the letter "N" hanging on the door.

"Rick," she said, suddenly feeling woefully unprepared as they approached the door. "What are we doing here? Really."

He stopped at the edge of the front steps, shuffling his worn boots and taking a long gander at the ground before attempting an answer. "We're checking in," he said, "and dropping off a teddy bear and a rattle. That's all I know for sure."

She nodded, regarding the incertitude in his eyes as he spoke. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to feel it," she whispered. "The same thing you feel. I need you to know that."

Rick pulled her into his chest, wrapping his free arm around her, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I just want to make sure she's safe," he whispered to himself, against the soft skin of her temple. "I owe her that."

"Ok," she agreed, accepting his unconvincing explanation. Whatever it was would be clear soon; she knew him well enough to know she'd see it, whatever he was feeling.

She stepped out of his embrace and smoothed her silk blouse, before wrapping her hand around his bicep. Her fingers dug into the dark plaid of his shirt, his muscles flexing as he announced their presence with a rap of his knuckles on the wooden door.

Barely a moment went by before it swung open and a middle aged woman greeted them, grinning from her perch on the threshold of the house.

"Welcome," she beamed. "I'm so glad you could make it. I'm Shelly." Their host had a smile that was all teeth, her eyes kind and as warm as the auburn ringlets on her head, and Michonne found herself smiling back despite the nervous fluttering in her gut.

"Thank you for having us," Rick replied, shaking the woman's hand. "I'm Rick. This is my wife, Michonne."

"Of course," she said amusedly. "I know who you are." She gestured behind them to a lawn sign with his name on it that their occupied minds had walked right past. "It's very nice to meet you."

"You too," Michonne replied.

Rick moved his hand to the small of her back, urging her to stay with him as Shelly ushered them into the tastefully decorated house. Family photos and coats of varying sizes hung on the wall of the entry, and the thick scent of a seasonal candle wafted about the room, adding to the ambiance of the comfortably lived in home.

Gabriel appeared in the foyer then, and he greeted them both with an inviting smile, as Rick introduced him to Michonne.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Michonne," Gabriel said, when Rick turned to answer a question Shelly had posed.

Michonne tried to hide a frown, wondering if her reluctance was that obvious, and she decided to cover the weight of the moment in well practiced, diplomatic charm. "Rick's been wanting to come by and see that Judith got off safely," she said, glancing at her husband beside her. "If it's important to him, it's important to me."

Gabriel seemed to expect that answer as well, and he bobbed his head in agreement, his smile appearing just short of omniscient.

They followed Shelly into a bright, neutrally painted living room that looked exactly as one would expect for a home with a three week old baby in residence. A changing table had been positioned behind the sofa, and burp clothes and blankets sat within an arm's reach of every seat in the room. The coffee table was littered with pacifiers, wipes and an unfinished bottle, and the quiet tinkling of a lullaby floated in the air.

Just as they stepped into the room, a young girl around Carl's age slinked past them, giving a half wave over her shoulder as she ran up the stairs and closed a door behind her with a loud thud.

"Teenagers," Shelly smiled.

"The Neudermeyer's have a few foster children staying here with them currently," Gabriel explained.

"We've got a teenager of our own," Michonne said, sympathetically. "They can be tough."

"You can say that again, but she's a good girl, just quiet." Shelly walked to the corner of the living room and peered into a little bassinet that was being rocked back and forth by battery power, and emitting the song they had been greeted with. "I think this is the girl you are here to see, though," she cooed.

Rick's eyes went wide, as if he was greeting a long lost friend, and Michonne reached for the paper gift bag he was holding, as he strode purposefully across the room to get a better look at Judith. He stared down into the crib, quickly turning back to Michonne when he noticed that she hadn't followed him. The whole room had noticed it seemed, and all eyes were on her.

Rick reached a hand out to her, begging her back to his side, and she forced her feet to move, slowly as if she were treading on the edge of a cliff. Taking a moment to push her heart back down from her throat, she prepared to finally lay eyes on the little girl who had so clearly stolen his heart.

Rick's hand found hers again, and she held onto him as she dropped her gaze to the tiny, still-wrinkly newborn, dressed in a pale pink dress and sleeping with her fists clenched inside cotton mittens and raised above her head. She had little wisps of honey colored hair that matched the ends of Rick's after a long summer in the sun, and her eyes were just as blue. She could easily be mistaken for his if someone didn't know better, she thought, tears starting to gather at the corner of her eyes. "She's beautiful," she whispered softly, to keep her voice from cracking. In fact, she couldn't have been more perfect and she could feel her stomach start to tighten and her heart strings start to pull against her will.

Rick was watching Michonne closely, looking as if he was ready to pick her up and run at the slightest hint of distress on her face, so she pushed her quivering lips into a smile and nodded at him. He nodded back, finally releasing her from his watchful gaze to focus again on Judith. Crouching down to the crib, eye level with that innocent little face, he reached in, ever so gently to touch the ruffled trim on her dress. She watched Judith's petite eyelids flutter with active slumber and every so often she made a little sucking noise with her bright pink lips that made Rick's eyes crinkle in amusement, and the corners of his mouth turn upward into a grin born of pure amazement.

"It's time she woke up," Shelly said, startling Michonne from the scene she was taking in. "You can hold her if you want."

Michonne knew the woman was speaking to her, but her voice had been sucked away with all of the air in the room when Rick had smiled at Judith that way. Rick studied her again, waiting for a sign that she was ok, and she silently told him to keep going. She was bending, but she wasn't broken yet.

He reached into the crib and scooped Judith up, as if he were lifting a feather, holding her out in front of him so he could examine her. Her whole body was cradled in his large hands, and it suddenly occurred to Michonne that she'd never seen her husband hold a baby before; all of the kids in their group having been much older when she met them. The sight stirred a veritable symphony of feelings and physical reactions, all clamouring for her attention, and she watched his every move with her breath suspended in her lungs.

Rick settled the infant in the crook of his arm, his eyes dancing around her tiny features, before escaping to the ceiling and clenching shut. She saw him fighting it, whatever emotion was rushing him, and he was losing. When he finally returned his sights to Judith, his smile was so genuine and tender that she immediately recognized it as the one he reserved for Carl. It was his Christmas morning and first day of school smile, the one that overtook his face without warning in the increasingly rare and fleeting moments when Carl did or said something to remind him that he still needed his father. Michonne watched him press his still smiling lips to the top of Judith's head and the tears she'd been laboring to contain began rolling down her cheek in big, fat drops.

She'd been picturing this for so long, since their first night together if she was honest with herself, but her mind had painted it differently. It was their baby she'd imagined, the one they had made together, and she had carried. She watched the moment wash over Rick's face, bowling into him like a rogue wave and she knew he really hadn't seen it coming. He'd been pulled here by something he didn't understand, all the while telling himself he didn't believe in that kind of thing, and she saw the sudden realization seize him; he didn't want to leave that little girl again.

She wanted to reach out to him, to simultaneously comfort him and accept his shelter, but she feared the minute she touched him she would be able to feel it as deeply as he did, and she wasn't ready.

"Can I use your bathroom, Shelly?" she said suddenly, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Rick's eyes darted to hers, concern pooling in the wake of his contentment, and he shifted the baby's weight to reach for her.

She stepped away, holding up her palm to gently stop him. "It's ok," she told him, looking him in the eye and trying her best to put him at ease. "I'm ok." She knew she was asking a lot of him to let her walk away in that moment, but she needed a minute and he complied.

"Of course," Shelly smiled, leading her through the house to a small half bath off of the kitchen. "Take your time."

Michonne stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a click, and brought her hands to her mouth. She could feel the back of her throat closing, the muscles burning as they worked to choke off the sobs that wanted to escape. She promised him that she was going to be fine, that seeing a baby wasn't going to throw her into some emotional turmoil that she couldn't handle, and that might have been true if she hadn't seen what she knew in her heart she would find when he led her here.

She chuckled through her tears at how obvious it was; the man never could hide anything behind those clear blue eyes. It was one of the things that she had always been so taken with: his honesty, how accessible his emotions were, but now she wished she couldn't read him so well. She turned around, taking a seat on the lid of the toilet, and dropped her forehead into her palms to try to push back the tears. She couldn't pretend she didn't know. She'd watched it just like everyone else, the moment that threatened to break every fragile heart in the room. They'd been walking diligently down the same path for so long, and now there was a fork, a choice, and Rick wanted to explore it.

Maybe this was like before, she thought, when God knocked on her door one day and told her all her plans were changing. She had believed then that she was suffering the biggest failure of her life, and it had turned out to be her greatest reward, an unexpected ending. Trusting that had been the best decision she ever made. Maybe this was one of those same moments when the answer to your prayer is different than the one you expected. She didn't know if she was ready to accept that this time though, and the fact that Rick may have already, made her feel untethered, adrift.

She regretted walking away from him just then, suddenly feeling like she wanted to hide in his arms and stay there until things made sense again. When she heard a knock on the door, she knew he had felt that need too. She stood to open it, taking a breath to ensure a composed greeting, but when she saw him on the other side, looking painfully contrite, her eyes spilled again.

"I'm sorry," he said, dipping his head slightly to look her in the eye. "The last thing I wanted was for this to upset you."

She reached up to hold his face in her hands. "Rick," she said firmly, unwilling to let him feel responsible for the reaction she'd promised not to have, "sometimes things are going to hurt. You can't always prevent it."

"I could have prevented it this time."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not if it meant not coming here when you felt you needed to."

The expression on his face didn't budge, still looking worn with guilt and worry. She could see he was ready to swallow this if she let him. He was already deferring to her, trying to hold her up without letting on to the epiphany he had just had.

She sighed, letting him go to lean against the door frame. "It was just...seeing you hold her, it's everything I've wanted and I couldn't…" She paused, not knowing how to pick from the list of things she couldn't do right now. She couldn't bear to look at Judith and let herself fall in love with a baby that wasn't hers, she couldn't admit that she was afraid that she was being given a sign that she didn't want to see, and she couldn't accept defeat, not yet. "You think we should give up on this," she said, trying her hardest not to let it sound like an accusation.

"No," he quickly replied, his wounded tone letting her know she'd failed. His natural tendency to be honest with her battled with his need to protect her, and he knew his next words could only accomplish one of those objectives. "I just...I think maybe there's another way we haven't thought of yet," he said, carefully.

Hearing it from his lips wasn't any easier than reading it on his face, and she could only nod, taking a long moment before forming her response. "I know you want to take care of that little girl, Rick," she whispered, "but I'm not ready to give up the chance to have this the way we planned, a baby that's you and me. I could be pregnant right now. It's still possible." Her voice was ringing with every last bit of hope she harbored and he reached for her, wrapping her tightly in his arms and pressing his face into her hair.

"I know," he soothed, stroking her back beneath his fingers. "I don't want you to give anything up. I want you to have everything you want."

She sank into his embrace, the tremble in his voice leaving her unsure which one of them was doing the consoling, but relishing in the comfort nonetheless. "It is everything we want, right?" she begged into the fabric of his shirt. "You too?"

"Yes," he promised. "Me too."

…

Rick pulled the car into the driveway, cutting the engine, but making no moves to get out. The ride home had been quiet, the weight of the day riding in the seat between them and occupying any brain space they might have used to make conversation. He'd ended their visit shortly after returning from the bathroom, explaining that he wanted to greet Carl at home after soccer practice. She'd waited while he said goodbye to Judith again, this time letting her remain in Shelly's arms while he retrieved the little stuffed bear they'd brought from its gift bag, and tucked it into the baby's hands. With a quick word of thanks to Gabriel, who looked on pensively, he rushed them out.

Now he turned in his seat to face her with the same silence. He reached across the cab, resting his hand on her upper thigh, and slipping his thumb in and out of the hem of her skirt. It was something he did often: sought out physical intimacy when he was struggling with verbal expression, and she recognized the gesture. When Carl had gone to stay with Lori for those few terrible weeks, he had conveyed every word of what he was feeling onto her skin, his tongue never forming a word. She reached for him too, her fingers finding the curls on the back of his head, and gently combing through them.

"You ok?" he finally asked.

"Are you?"

"I asked you first," he smirked, his eyes darting away from hers and settling on the floor.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted. She couldn't truthfully say she was ok, when it was clear he was still processing all that had transpired that day. Their personal level of contentment had been intertwined for years now and she would need a sign from him before her breathing returned to normal.

He leaned in, cupping her face with his other hand, and found her lips for a long, drawn out kiss, in lieu of a reply. "Ready?" he asked, pulling away to get out of the car.

"Yeah."

He came around to open her door the way he always did, and they walked to the house, both glad to be home.

Carl was waiting in the foyer when they came through the door, startling them both when they spotted him standing silently with his hands on his hips and his face pursed.

"What?" Rick asked, when the boy refused to greet them properly.

"Why were you at my girlfriend's house?" he asked, his tone clipped by suspicion.

"What?" Michonne's eyebrows shot up, her lips parting in surprise.

"Your girlfriend?" Rick said, speaking at the same time. "What are you talking about?"

"Enid. She texted me while I was at practice and said my mom and dad were at her house. She knows your face from the campaign. Why were you there?"

Rick and Michonne shared an equally confused look before remembering the girl who had slid past them at the beginning of their visit to the Neudermeyer's and ignored them for the rest of the time they were there.

"She's your girlfriend?" Rick asked, trying to figure out how a gregarious kid like Carl ended up with her for his first foray into the dating world.

Carl didn't offer an answer to Rick's rhetorical retort, instead turning his gaze questioningly toward Michonne.

"Your father knows one of the other children that lives there," she explained. "The baby that Sasha delivered on the ambulance."

"So you went to her house?" Carl continued to press.

"When were you going to tell us you had a girlfriend?" Rick asked, trying his luck at avoidance.

"I guess when you showed up at her house in some random coincidence."

Rick nodded, accepting the boy's snarky response. He decided he was too tired to spar with Carl right then though, leaving Michonne to hash this out with him while he retreated to the kitchen.

He was spreading some peanut butter on a piece of toast when she finally found her way back to him. "Want some?" he asked casually, offering her the plate.

She pushed it back toward him with two fingers, eyeing him with concern. Rick frowned, setting the plate on the counter without taking a bite. "Guess we missed our chance to get to know his girlfriend," he said, wrestling with the turn of events that seemed to forge yet another path leading back to Judith.

"I just explained to him that we were there because you wanted to see Judith, to make sure she was ok, like you said.

He nodded silently, looking past her to try to catch a glimpse of Carl and assess how he had taken that explanation.

"We should talk, Rick," she said, stepping in front of his gaze.

"We will," he nodded. "Later ok?" He forced a smile, letting his hand run along her hip as he pushed past her, abandoning his snack and heading back into the living room.

She let him go, the same way he had done for her earlier, and settled against the counter. Her head was starting to ache and she rubbed at her temples, trying to sort the jumbled thoughts that were swarming her brain. She wasn't used to being on a different page than Rick. There was a time when she'd lost every ounce of trust she had in the world and it all came back to her in this one man. A man she had learned to believe in more than the rising sun. She trusted him with her life, with the lives of their children, born and yet to be, and that's why when he said going to see this little girl was something they should do together, she had agreed, but this was more than she had bargained for.

She placed her palm flush against her taut stomach, closing her eyes. She knew it was presumptuous to ask again, especially when she might be intentionally ignoring an answer she'd already been given, but she did it anyway. She wanted this so badly, for the path to emerge the way she'd been hoping. She wanted any doubts replaced by certainty for him and for her, and the only way that could happen was for this to finally be the time, for the answer to be growing inside of her right now.

She finished her prayer, going to search Rick out in the quiet house, and she found him lounging on the couch with his head tipped back in either rest, or thoughtful contemplation; she couldn't tell. She slid in beside him, her head instinctively finding his shoulder, and his arm wrapping around her.

"I need more time, Rick. I just need another day with a chance. Can you give me that?"

"I told you, Michonne," he said, cradling her under his arm. "I'll give you anything you want."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Here is the next chapter, it's a little lighter than the last few :). Thank you all for reviewing and following. I really appreciate it!**

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"Rick!" Hershel called, as he crossed the field from his horse barn. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He had seen the cruiser pulling down the long, dirt driveway while he was buttoning up the stalls for the evening, and came to meet his impromptu guest near the bottom stairs of his wrap around porch.

"I got off a little early," Rick said, waiting while Hershel brushed off his work gloves and shoved them in the pocket of his trousers, before reaching out for a hearty handshake. "Was in your part of town, so thought I'd stop by and catch up."

"I'm glad you did," the older man smiled.

Rick lifted a six pack of beer he brought with him and climbed the steps, coming to rest against the railing. "You need any help?" he asked, gesturing to Hershel's work attire as he popped open one of the bottles. He offered one to his host, but he declined as he expected he would.

"I just finished up," Hershel answered, looking Rick up and down before taking a wooden Adirondack chair for himself.

Rick nodded, turning toward the expansive yard and breathing in the fragrant air of the quickly approaching evening. "It's starting to get dark earlier, now. Summer's windin' down."

"Mmhmm," Hershel replied. "You drive out here to talk about the changing of the seasons?"

"Maybe in a way," Rick answered, thoughtfully. He turned toward the old man, leaning against the railing with his back this time, and hooked a thumb onto his gun belt.

"Where's Michonne?" Hershel asked, pointedly, his eyes narrowed with a hint of suspicion.

Rick bristled at the implication in his stare, suddenly realizing how his unannounced visit might look. He'd landed here before when he was seeking a place to escape from Lori, spending the evenings chatting about anything besides his failing marriage with his oldest friend, while avoiding going home. He needed to make sure Hershel didn't get the wrong idea. "She's out with Carl, picking him up a suit for the campaign thing this week." He tipped his head to make sure to catch Hershel's gaze. "You don't have to worry about that with me and her," he said, firmly.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."

"Kid's growing like a weed," Rick said, his smile returning. "He's gained a few inches since he last wore the suit he has. Looked like he was waitin' on a flood when he tried it on."

Hershel smiled with him, nodding his head at the familiar complaint. He's had a similar thought the last time he saw Beth on a weekend home from college. It was hard to believe his baby had become a grown woman, and he recognized that Rick was just in the beginning stages of that eventual acceptance.

"He's growin' up into a fine young man."

"He is," Rick agreed, sipping from his beer and letting the silence linger a little longer. "He'll be outta the house before I know it. It's starting to hit me that we may not have another one following behind him."

"I know it's not been easy for you two," Hershel said after a moment. "That what's on your mind?"

Rick nodded in affirmation, taking a long pull of the outdoor air and settling his lower lip between his teeth. "I met a girl," he said, chuckling to himself.

Hershel quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to explain the joke.

"An infant...Judith." He pronounced her name like it was already precious and Hershel didn't miss his inflection. "I don't know why, but I've been a little stuck on her ever since. Like I got this nagging feelin' in my gut. Her mother died, no father to speak of. She lives in a foster home in town."

"I see," Hershel said, leaning back in his chair and urging him to continue.

"I've always wanted a little girl, ever since I thought maybe Lori and I'd be having one. Then that turned out the way it did and I figured it wasn't in the cards...till I met Michonne. I honestly thought I was done with that part of my life, you know? But then she wanted it too, and I want to give it to her, more than anythang." Rick hung his head for a moment, picturing his wife's face, month after month of disappointment. "Just when it seemed again like it wasn't meant to be, it occurred to me this might just be the way."

"You know," Hershel said, quietly. "I've always been a firm believer in that nagging gut feeling. Had a few run-ins with it myself over the years. You see, Rick, when God speaks to us, he doesn't shout, he whispers in our ear."

Rick scoffed audibly, taking another swig of the cold ale and turning back to the rolling acreage of Hershel's land.

Hershel was quiet for a while, studying Rick as he fixed his gaze on some far away point on the horizon. Finally, he hoisted himself out of the low seat and took a spot on the railing beside his guest. "Rick," he said, searching the landscape for his own point to focus on, "what happened to you, with Lori and all that came after, I had little faith you'd be the same man after that. And I wouldn't have blamed you for it. I just prayed you would find some way to go on, for Carl. Then Michonne came into your life, and suddenly you were revived. It was as if you'd come back from the dead. You don't see God in that?"

Rick's lips turned upward into a smirk he tried his best to hide. "I don't doubt Michonne and I were meant to be together," he said. "We got mutual friends, common interests. We were gonna meet somehow, but not because of some higher plan, or some other being pulling the strings." He gestured to the stratosphere with his bottle. "It's the law of averages," he explained. "We were looking for the same thing and we found it."

"And this baby? Were you out looking for her, too? Or was she put in your path, at the perfect moment?"

"But it's not perfect," Rick said, his patience for the spiritual speculation waning. "Michonne doesn't feel the same way. Why would your God put something in my path that I can't have, or something in her path just to cause her more pain? That's some twisted version of fate."

"Rick, when you first met Michonne you couldn't see what was right in front of your face. We all saw it, but it took you some time. Michonne showed you the way, now it's your turn to show her."

Rick shook his head, dropping Hershel's knowing gaze in favor of the ground. "I can't ask her for something like this."

"Then don't ask her. Help her see."

Rick ran a thumb along his brow, letting Hershel's words steep in the warm air. He'd tried to walk away, committing to letting Judith go for Michonne's sake, but maybe he was doing them both a disservice. She had helped him see so many things in the time he'd known her and he'd taken it for granted that enlightenment was her forte, but she was in a different place right now and pain has a way of settling like a thick fog over an otherwise clear view. Other than Hershel, Michonne was the biggest believer in fate that he knew, yet somehow she couldn't see this like he could. Maybe she just didn't want to.

"I should go," he said, finishing his last sip of beer, and placing the empty bottle back into its cardboard holder. "Michonne and Carl will be home soon."

"You're always welcome here, Rick. I don't have to tell you that, but I think you're right. Go be with your family and you'll know the right thing to do."

"Yes, sir," Rick replied. "I hope you're right."

"Aren't I always?" Hershel broke into a mirthful grin, slapping a palm onto Rick's shoulder to send him off.

"You've got a good track record," he said, waving a hand over his shoulder as he trotted down the front steps to his car, ready to end his day where he should.

…

"Let's wrap it up, kid," Michonne said, glancing at her phone. "Your dad says he'll be home in fifteen minutes and I haven't seen him all day."

"K," Carl responded, distractedly. He was thumbing through the latest issues of his favorite superhero stories, having convinced Michonne to make the stop at the comic book store in the mall after letting her play dress up with him for the better part of an hour.

She shifted the garment bag she was holding into her other arm and texted a quick reply to Rick.

"Hey, can I bring a friend to this thing?" Carl asked suddenly, gesturing to the suit bag.

"I think Tim's already going to be there," she muttered, smirking at the screen of her phone and the cheeky response she received from her husband when she had promised to be there soon.

"I was thinking of bringing Enid."

Michonne tossed the phone in her purse, sensing an opportunity. "Yeah? You think she'd want to come?"

"Maybe. She doesn't like to go to like school dances and stuff, but this is kinda different since none of the kids from our class will be there."

"Well, it might be kinda boring," she said, going over the guest list in her head. "But if you want to invite her that's perfectly fine with me." She tried to push aside the fact that this would probably mean another visit with Shelly, since neither kid could drive, and the awkwardness that might come with that after their last encounter.

Carl nodded, lifting a comic off of the shelf and holding it up to her. She smiled her approval and began walking toward the check out.

"You should invite her soon though, so she can pick something to wear. Girl's like to have a little notice for these things."

"Ok."

"So, you like this girl?"

"Yeah."

"What do you like about her?" Michonne handed the cashier her card and began flipping through the pages of the book, hoping to remain casual.

"I don't know," he said, casting his eyes to the ground. "She's just...more mature than the other kids in my grade I guess."

"I see," Michonne replied, contemplating all of the events in Carl's life that had added to his own maturity at such a young age. Things with his mother were more settled now, but he'd been forced to navigate a very grown up situation when he was anything but. She had a feeling, given Enid's current living arrangements, she had as well. "You should definitely invite her. I'd love to get to know her, and your father will be busy all night, so he won't be too embarrassing." She ruffled his hair a bit as the cashier handed her the receipt and Carl the bag.

"That's what I was hoping," he replied, relieved they were back to ganging up on Rick.

"Let's go," she said, slipping her arm around his shoulder and heading toward the parking lot.

They arrived home a little while after Rick, and were greeted to the aroma of hot pizza as soon as they entered the house. Michonne slipped off her heels at the door, her stomach growling as she handed Carl his suit to put away.

"Looks like you guys were successful," Rick said, coming to greet them in the foyer while Carl rushed up the stairs with his bags.

"Of course," she smiled. She tugged at the hair tie that was holding her locs hostage atop of her head and they spilled down around her face as he leaned in to kiss her. "You got dinner already?"

"I did. I got out early, stopped by Hershel's for a bit and grabbed some pizza on the way home. I would have met you at the mall if I'd have known you would be there so long."

"It's fine," she said, following him into the kitchen. "Carl and I had some time together. I feel like I haven't seen him since school started."

"Yeah," Rick replied, as he gathered a few plates out of the cabinet. "He's busier than all of us."

"He's going to bring a date to the campaign event."

Rick's head whipped around at her disclosure, squinting as if he hadn't heard her correctly. "A date?"

"Enid," Michonne nodded, watching him carefully for a number of tells. She was sure he hadn't spoken to Carl yet about his blossoming relationship, but she also wondered if the thought of seeing Enid again would weigh on him in regards to Judith. It was impossible not to dwell on the connection.

"So she's really his girlfriend?" Rick said quietly, pondering at least one of those thoughts as he resumed his task of setting the table.

"I guess so."

"Did he talk to you about it? What that means exactly?"

"No," she smiled, leaving her spot by the counter to wrap her arms around him from behind. "He just said he liked her a lot and wanted to bring her along."

"I guess I need to have a talk with him," he replied, finishing with the plates and settling into her embrace. "Between that and the baby making comment, it might be overdue." He sighed, heavily. "When did I get old enough to have a kid with a girlfriend?"

"I think when this scruff started turning grey," she said dryly, reaching a hand up to stroke his stubbled face, while smirking into his back.

He laughed at her jab, spinning around in her arms to retaliate. She squealed loudly in surprise as he lifted her off the ground and backed her up to the counter, setting her on top of it.

"You'd better take that back," he said, trapping her arms at her sides, and diving into her neck. He made sure to let his scratchy chin scrape along her skin while he kissed her decolletage.

She kicked her legs and giggled as he tortured her, knowing very well how much she liked it. "Never!"

"Oh, really?" he replied, lifting his head to stare her down. He released her arms from his hold, instead using both hands to tickle her waist, while she tried to escape.

"We eating? Or…" They both stopped short at the sound of Carl's voice.

"Of course," Rick said, awkwardly clearing his throat. He took a step back to allow Michonne to slide off the counter and helped her tug her skirt back into place.

"You should have that talk," she whispered, playfully punching him in the side as she slipped away to join Carl at the table.

…

"Looks great in here, Maggie," Andrea beamed, taking in the local hotel bar, that their friend had decked out to look like an upscale city lounge. She and Shane were the first to arrive at the cocktail and hors d'oeuvres event, and Shane immediately made his way to the bar, leaving the ladies some time to catch up.

"Thanks," Maggie replied, blowing out a sharp breath that caused her well styled bangs to flutter off of her face. "It's been a job, but I think it came together nicely."

"It's amazing," Michonne agreed. She ran a hand along a high top table, marveling at the elegant centerpiece her friend had designed. "So, how come you're having so much trouble planning your wedding, when you can throw something like this together in a few weeks?"

"Gosh, I don't even know where to start with that. It helps that I didn't have my daddy shouting ideas over my shoulder the whole time I was plannin' this."

"Hershel's more excited than you and Glenn," Andrea smirked, sipping from her glass of white wine.

"Tell me about it." Maggie rolled her eyes before noticing some campaign literature that was out of place on a table beside them, turning to straighten it. "Everyone we need to reach should be here tonight," she said over her shoulder. "Like I said, Gregory's got his foot in the door at the Chamber of Commerce, but I've rounded up the small business owners, regular folks who interact with their own customers on a daily basis. We'll keep Daryl and Shane talking to them about the mess they cleaned up a few years ago under Rick's direction. Glenn and Abe will be out there to start up some conversations from their perspective as first responders. Of course Sasha and Tara won't need talking points, they've got it under control. Everybody's got a job to do."

"Where do you want me?" Michonne asked, happy to let Maggie lead tonight. Carl wasn't the only one who had spent the summer in the campaign office, and Rick was looking especially handsome tonight in the suit she had picked out; she didn't mind enjoying a night out with him under the guise of work.

"You just look fabulous and keep the guest of honor out there working the room. And make sure he has the elevator speech nailed down!"

"You got it," Michonne agreed, picturing Rick scrunching his eyebrows in distaste at the political jargon. As far as he was concerned he'd done just fine this far without memorizing a script, and he may have been right. He was charming in his own right, but Gregory had recently brought his past back to the front burner of everybody's mind, and it would behoove him to remind them of his professional accomplishments concisely in the quick moments he had to converse with his guests tonight.

Eyeing Rick across the room, his hands shoved in the pockets of his blue-grey suit pants and the top button of his crisp, white shirt casually unbuttoned, she was looking forward to being stationed on his arm for the night. He threw his head back in amusement at something Sheriff Dion was saying, looking completely comfortable with the lime light he was being forced to contend with that evening, and a smile burst from her lips at the transformation she'd witnessed in him since the day they met. Not even Gregory's reminder could bring him back to that angry, brooding place.

"She's got the fabulous part down," Andrea said, reminding Michonne of the conversation she was still part of. "That dress is gorgeous."

Michonne smoothed her hands over the grey shift dress she was wearing, the color complementing Rick's attire perfectly, then adjusted the silver bangle bracelets she had stacked on her wrist. "Thanks," she smiled. "Good excuse to buy a dress."

A few more guests were starting to file in through the front door and Maggie excused herself to play hostess. Michonne was keeping an eye out for Carl and Enid, watching the door as she chatted with Andrea. Thankfully, Shelly had offered to drive them, saving both Rick and her a trip back to Judith's house. Rick hadn't said a word about the little girl since they left her a week ago, but she knew it was still on his mind. When she had mentioned that Carl was bringing Enid to this event, she saw the little flicker in his eye that told her he'd been reminded.

She wouldn't have made him go there to get Enid, but she didn't want to do it herself, either. Especially since she'd woken up that morning, on day twenty-seven of her cycle, without even a single twinge in her lower abdomen, and she'd slipped this dress on comfortably, admiring the way it highlighted her flat, unbloated mid-section. She'd wavered by a day before; twenty-four hours, never more, and she was going on twelve now with still no signs of her approaching period. She was feeling cautiously hopeful. It certainly wasn't Judith or Shelly's fault, but she wanted to hold onto that hopefulness without being reminded of the little orphaned girl and the way she had avoided getting too close, for fear she would somehow jinx herself.

"I figured you'd be coming to give me some orders by now." She turned to look behind her shoulder at the sound of Rick's voice whispering against her ear. His arm slipped around her waist, and she spun around admiring his freshly shaved face.

"Lucky for me, I just got my assignment for the night and it was exactly that. I was about to head over."

"Good," he replied. "I was plannin' on following your lead tonight."

"Smart man."

"Where's my supportive son?" he asked, glancing at his watch and then the door. "He planning on being fashionably late?"

"I told him seven. It's still early."

Rick nodded, doing a quick sweep of the room with his eyes. He spotted Daryl and Rosita coming through the door and tipped his chin up in acknowledgment, before Maggie accosted them.

"You look relaxed tonight," he noted, smiling as his eyes surveyed her smile. "You should let Maggie do the bossing around more often. Take a break."

"She did a great job, and I'm excited to spend a nice evening with you."

"As my handler."

"Stop it. As moral support. I enjoy singing your praises." She reached up to finger the open button on his shirt, pressing lightly against his chest with hers.

"I'll enjoy thanking you later," he said with a grin.

She felt her cheeks starting to burn, marvelling at the way his stare could still melt her. "We have work to do first."

"You want a drink?" he asked, remembering that she had been indulging here and there after giving it up completely for so long. Her physician had told her it was unnecessary, and even advised that it might help her body to relax if she were to partake occasionally. He was hoping she would take him up on it this evening, prolonging her tranquil mood.

"No," she said, shaking her head and allowing the tiniest smile to quirk the corner of her mouth. She'd learned not to allow a full reaction to twelve hours, but she couldn't help a little satisfaction to slip. "I'll have a seltzer and cranberry."

"I'll be right back, then," he said, leaving her with a kiss on the cheek.

"The man of the hour," a gentleman waiting at the bar announced, as Rick approached.

He took the spot next to the grey haired man, extending a handshake. "Dale, good to see you again. Thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it. I never got the chance to thank you personally for solving the case after my pharmacy was held up a couple years ago. Figured now was a good opportunity to return the favor."

"Well, Deputy Walsh was the one who solved it, but I'll be sure to pass that on."

"Ah, yes, but you're the one who solved the problem." Rick nodded humbly and Dale adjusted his position, leaning against the bar as he waited for Rick to place his order. "Can't imagine a better man to continue the fine work the department has been doing. Sheriff Dion and I go way back, I'm sure you know."

"I do."

"Grew up together, actually. I think your opponent is underestimating how tight this community is. We need you, son. Don't let him hit you where you're weak."

Rick eyed Dale in contemplation for a moment before responding. The two were acquaintances, maybe a little closer than most by nature of the man's trade, he thought amusedly, but Dale seemed to be going out of his way to throw him a line here.

"What do you suggest?" he asked, accepting the two short glasses he had ordered, one dark and strong, the other bright and colorful.

"This is a great start," he said, nodding his chin toward a few of his fellow businessmen and women. "But there are a couple missing faces; ones with rather large mouths attached. Just make sure you've got your ears to the ground."

"I'll do that," Rick replied. "Thank you."

Dale nodded, scanning the drinks in Rick's hands. "The virgin cranberry for your wife?" he smiled conspiratorially.

"It is."

"May its tartness herald sweetness to come. For the both of you." Dale clinked his glass against Rick's and wandered off, leaving Rick slightly fatigued by the esoteric conversation.

Rick made it back across the room, coming upon the sight of Carl and Enid as they chatted comfortably with Michonne. His son stiffened a bit at his arrival, and he wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult or an opportunity. He hadn't had the chance to offer any fatherly advice to the boy about this yet, and he could tell Carl was nervous about how he was going to behave. He glanced at Michonne, who also caught the change in atmospheric pressure given the smirk she was holding back, and he handed her her drink.

"Enid, I'm glad you could make it," Rick said. "Carl talks about you a lot." He knew that wasn't exactly true, but it sounded like a safe thing to say. He realized quickly that he was wrong when Carl cut him an embarrassed look.

"Thanks for having me," Enid mumbled out shyly, her eyes steady on the floor.

"Of course. Help yourselves to food, there's plenty. Just stay away from the bar," he said with a teasing grin. "I heard there's a lot of cops here."

Neither one of them laughed at his attempted humor, so he turned to Michonne for the support she was supposed to be providing. Her pitiful smile told him whose side she was on.

"Carl, why don't you introduce Enid to Glenn and Maggie. I'm sure they'd love to meet her," she said, granting them a reprieve.

"Alright," Carl agreed, looking pleased at the escape Michonne had provided them. "See you around, dad."

Enid tossed a half smile toward them as Carl placed a hand on her back, leading her toward his adopted aunt and uncle. Rick was struck by the adult gesture, both pride and wistfulness filling his chest.

"You got jokes tonight, huh?" Michonne was snickering at him through closed teeth as she nibbled on the little, black straw in her drink.

"I promised to impress the electorate tonight, teenagers are beyond my pay grade."

"Clearly."

"She doesn't talk much," Rick said, glancing after his son and his date.

"Glenn has her smiling," Michonne added as they watched the interaction together.

"Yeah, well, he'll be old some day, too."

"What did Mr. Horvath have to say?"

"I'm not entirely sure to be honest." He took a sip of his scotch, smiling over the glass at Michonne. "Something about your cranberry juice being tart and it bringing you sweetness."

"This town is so small," she giggled, wiping a bit of liquid from her lip.

"You understand that?"

"He fills my prescription for my shots and everything else. He probably thinks this means I'm pregnant." She held up her glass, before taking another sip.

"Oh," Rick frowned, suddenly sorry he'd repeated it, though she seemed to be taking it in stride. He started counting off the days in his head, wondering if there was something else behind her relaxed mood, but he was interrupted by a slap on the shoulder, and corresponding nudge from Michonne. He turned around to see Deanna's oldest son, Spencer grinning at them. He had definitely inherited the politician's fake smile, Rick thought.

"Hey Rick," Spencer said, shaking his hand then reaching for Michonne's. Rick watched as the man lifted her knuckles to his lips, offering what he surely thought was a charming hello, and he took another swig of his drink to occupy his tongue before it could retort.

"Spencer," he said after savoring his swallow. "Thanks for comin' out."

"Well, I was personally invited," he smiled past Rick, beaming at Michonne. "I like to attend these things with my mother. It's good networking."

Rick nodded silently, already wearing of this interaction. "Where is Deanna? I didn't see her come in?"

"She's with Dion," Spencer replied, tossing his head toward a table behind them. "Looks like you have a full house."

"It's a great turnout." Michonne slipped her arm through Rick's, smiling at his scowl, and he could hear her telepathic plea for him to behave. He pushed a smile onto his lips and nodded again.

"We're pleased with it," he said.

"Certainly helps to be seen with this beautiful lady on your arm."

Michonne was squeezing his bicep now, her nails digging through the fabric of his jacket and into his skin. Rick summoned his newly acquired zen, the kind he was betting this campaign on, and replied accordingly. "She's not just a pretty face," he said. "She's the brains behind the whole thing." He pointed toward the banner hanging on the wall beside them, sporting his name and the 'Leadership you can trust,' tagline that Maggie had coined. "She's leading me."

Michonne had heard him repeat that phrase before; it was his standard response to the sexist dribble that seemed to flow freely in the male dominated field, but she was further impressed at his diplomacy given their current company. "I'm a sucker for a good candidate," she said with a sweet smile.

Spencer watched the two share a moment and decided it was time to work the room elsewhere. "Well good luck, Rick. My mother strongly endorses you, so I'm going to take her word on it." He left them with the ambiguous show of support and headed off toward another group.

"Impressive," she smirked, running a hand along his chest.

"If he wasn't Deanna's son…"

"He's gone now. I"m going to go check in with Carl and Enid. Why don't you take a break and catch up with Daryl for a few minutes?"

"Alright," he agreed, leaving her with a kiss on the cheek. "Make sure Carl's bein' a gentleman."

"He learned from the best," she simpered, as he walked away.

Michonne spotted Carl across the room laughing with Abraham's son, while Enid looked on uncomfortably, and she made her way over to join them.

"Hey guys," she said, earning smiles from the boys. "Having fun?"

"Yes, Mrs. Grimes," Tim answered with a politeness she was sure he didn't learn from his father.

"Good. You know they just brought out the dessert trays. Why don't you two go grab something good for Enid and I?"

Carl gave her look, hoping he wasn't going to have to lump her in with his father for embarrassing behavior tonight. Michonne narrowed her eyes at him, reading his mind and letting him know it wasn't a request.

"Alright," he said, reluctantly. "We'll be right back."

Michonne watched the two boys walk away before turning to Enid. "Snoozefest, right?" she asked, trying her best to get the serious girl to crack a smile.

Enid shrugged her shoulders, her face remaining unaffected.

"Politics can be pretty stuffy," she said, "but I guess it's better than sitting at home watching Dancing With The Stars." The girl gave her an incredulous look that she found slightly more encouraging than her complete disinterest, so she continued. "Do you watch it?"

"No," Enid muttered. She crossed her arms around her chest and did a quick little scan for Carl, before elaborating. "Shelly watches it. She likes that football player guy."

"Terrell Owens? Yeah he's my favorite too." She gave Enid a wink that fell flat, so she decided to switch directions. "So, how long have you been with the Neudermeyers?"

"Nine months. It's the longest I've been at one home. Usually they get a younger kid and suddenly don't have the room anymore, or circumstances change." She repeated the diplomatic phrase as if she had heard it more than once, and Michonne nodded her head in understanding.

"It seems like a nice place," she offered. Shelly's genuine affection toward Judith was obvious, and she seemed to hold a soft spot for Enid, too. She had a few things on her mind during their visit, but she did notice the children there seemed well cared for, and it pleased her.

"I guess fifth time's a charm," Enid smirked, then noticing Michonne's confusion, she clarified. "It's the fifth place I've been to since, you know…"

"I see." Michonne swirled the remnants of her drink around in her glass, wondering what could have happened to the girl's parents, but not wanting to ask. "That must be really hard."

"I don't really think about it anymore" she said, rather unconvincingly. "Just gotta survive somehow, right?"

Michonne's heart sank. The girl was the same age as Carl, and as much as he had gone through in his short years, he always had a family who loved him enough to help him through it. Rick had made sure of it, and all of their friends had helped. Enid had been navigating much worse, all alone. It was the same solitary existance Rick feared for Judith, and she found a picture of the little girl worming its way into her head against her will; her ruffled dress and the way she clutched the teddy bear blanket under her arm, immediately latching onto its rounded ear, and sucking away. She'd been fighting the image for days.

"How's the baby doing? Judith?" she asked. The words tumbled from her mouth before her brain could catch up, and she clenched her jaw shut, waiting for the answer to the question she wasn't sure why she had posed.

"She's fine. Cries all the time. Not sure what she's so upset about, she doesn't even know what it's like yet." Enid shrugged her shoulders as if she was actually contemplating the question.

"Babies tend to do that," Michonne said, sympathetically.

"Shelly said Mr. Grimes knows her. How come Carl didn't?"

"It's a long story," Michonne said with a breath, not having the first clue how to explain to this young girl why they had gone there without Carl knowing.

"Yeah." Enid turned away. It was obvious she found Michonne's placating answer unsatisfactory.

"You should come over some time," Michonne said. The girl was a tough egg, but she was determined to crack her, for Carl's sake. "Have dinner with us. You're always welcome."

"Yeah, sure," she replied without looking at her.

"Good. It's a date, then."

…

"It was good to see Dale," Andrea mused aloud, as she climbed up on a bar stool and waved down the weary looking bartender for a refill. The official event was over, but Maggie had convinced a few of them to stay behind and help clean up; now they were enjoying their reward.

Shane took a spot beside her, shrugging out of his suit coat and slinging it on the stool beside her. "He was happy to see you, too," he sneered. "That guy never shuts up."

"Don't be rude, Shane," Maggie chimed in. "He's a good guy."

"He wanted me to extend his thanks, actually," Rick spun Michonne's stool to the side, slipping behind it and providing the hard wall of his chest for her to lean on. "For solving that robbery long time ago."

Shane's scowl softened slightly. "Little late ain't it?" he scoffed, half heartedly.

"What you expect a God damned thank you card?" Daryl said, finishing off his beer and sliding it down to the end of the bar where they were collecting the empties. "Cause I don't think I got one yet either. Rick, you get one?"

Rick laughed with him, as Shane displayed his middle finger in response. He glanced across the room at the high table where Carl and Enid were sipping sodas and holding a riveting conversation, trying to gage how much later he could keep them out on a school night. It was already past their bedtime, but he had to agree with his wife: it was nice to have a night out, even if it was technically work. "He gave me some good advice actually," he replied, deciding the kids looked fine where they were.

"What's that?" Michonne asked. Maggie perked up as well, finally finishing her work and taking a spot next to Glenn.

"Said not to let Gregory hit me where I was weak."

"See, man, that's exactly what I'm talkin' about," Shane said. "The hell's that even mean?"

"If I had to guess, he's referring to the new ads that are runnin'," Maggie said.

"It would be nice to find out who's bankrolling this latest push", Glenn added. "He wasn't shelling out for T.V. ads until recently."

"I don't care who's paying for it," Rick said, "As long as he keeps it between me and him. I won't stand for him smearing Dion or the whole department."

"Just a few more weeks," Michonne said, tipping her head up to look at her agitated husband. She knew he wasn't happy to have the constant reminder of that time in his life every time he turned on the television, but he'd accepted it would come up again when he'd set out to win the seat, and he had been managing it well so far.

"Mrs. Neudermeyer's here," Carl announced, as he and Enid approached the group of adults. "I'm going to walk Enid out."

"I'll walk with you," Rick said, but Michonne slid off of the stool, holding a hand up.

"I'll go." She shared a smile with Enid, and Rick conceded, content to relax until he earned his own chauffeur home.

Michonne followed the two through the front of the lounge and into the main lobby of the hotel, watching with pride as Carl held the door open for his date. They stepped out into the well lit parking lot and she hung back, trying not to catch up as they made their way to Shelly's minivan. It wasn't entirely necessary to chaperone them to the car, but she did want to thank Shelly for doing all of the driving that night.

"Thanks for inviting me," she heard Enid say, her eyes still cast toward the ground.

"Sure. Sorry about my dad's lame jokes. My mom usually keeps better tabs on him."

Michonne paused, her eyes darting upward just in time to see Carl's cheeks flushing at Enid's genuine smile. She felt bad for eavesdropping on the moment, but his comment had caught her off guard. She hadn't missed it when he'd referred to her as his mom the other day, but she had convinced herself he was just repeating Enid's mistake. Now she felt her heart swelling inside of her chest, and she had to will herself not to run over and hug him.

Shelly blinked her headlights impatiently at the two and Enid's frown immediately returned.

"So, I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow." she said, continuing her way toward her ride.

"Yeah."

Michonne stepped up to greet Shelly at the window, keeping an eye on Carl while they finished their goodbyes.

"Hi again," the woman smiled, showing no signs of discomfort surrounding their previous meeting. She was at least pretending not to remember the way Michonne had fled her house like it was on fire, and she appreciated it.

"Hi Shelly, thank you so much for dropping them off tonight. I know it's not easy to get out of the house with kids." Michonne glanced behind her, into the van, scanning the back for a car seat. She knew it was too late for her to have Judith with her, but she still checked on the off chance. She found it empty though, and she wasn't sure whether she was disappointed or relieved.

"Of course," Shelly smiled. "It was no trouble at all."

"Well, we owe you. I invited Enid to have dinner with us soon. We'll be sure to do both trips next time."

"Of course. I'm sure she will be looking forward to it. See you soon."

"Bye."

Carl shut Enid's door behind her and the two waved, as they watched Shelly drive off. They turned to make their way back inside, only to find the rest of their friends piling out of the front door, headed to their vehicles. Rick met them on the curb, handing Michonne her purse and coat and moving behind her to help her slip it on. She thanked him with a big grin still plastered on her face, as she watched Carl rush to say goodbye to Daryl and Shane.

"Why're you smiling like that?" Rick asked, his own lips turning upward to match.

"He's a sweet kid," she said simply.

"He learned from the best," he replied.


	7. Chapter 7

"Michonne, are you coming?" Rick's voice was less urgent than it should have been, as he called to her from the front door. She was about to make them late if she didn't find what she was looking for. She opened another drawer in the large double vanity of their master bathroom, wondering how she had acquired enough stuff to fill all of the empty drawers she had inherited when they began sharing his home. After pawing through essential oils, makeup brushes, and hair ties, and making a mental note to organize better, she finally slammed the drawer shut in frustration. Of all times to be out of the pregnancy tests she was usually fully stocked with, she thought.

"Two minutes," she yelled back. Of all times to be riding in with Rick, she added. She didn't want to tell him yet that she'd passed the twenty four hour mark and was officially late, so asking him to stop at the store to pick up another test was out of the question.

She did one more check of her makeup, to ensure her frantic search hadn't ruined her primping and glanced quickly at her flat tummy in the tight fitting top she wore, imagining it rounded and swollen.

Rick was leaning up against the wall, scrolling through his phone while he waited and looking casually handsome in his uniform. He looked up eagerly when he heard her heels on the floor.

"Sorry," she said. "Couldn't find my lipstick."

He looked at her questioningly, as if that were an odd excuse, which it was. She was bad at this. "You look better without it anyway," he said, ushering her out the door with a smile.

The car ride was short and uneventful as usual. She listened contentedly as Rick gave her a rundown of his day and Carl's after school schedule, and she imagined what it would be like coordinating days like this with a baby in tow, smiling silently to herself as she planned.

They finally pulled into the shared municipal parking lot and Rick stopped the car, glancing at his watch to see they had actually made it with a few minutes to spare, despite her dawdling. He turned toward her in his seat, pressing a palm on the outside of her bare thigh and letting it creep upward.

"What are you doing?" she laughed.

"You fell asleep as soon as we got home last night and I didn't get to thank you for all your hard work."

"And you think now is a good time?" she asked with her eyebrow quirked playfully.

"Well, I can't be as thorough as I'd like to be, but I can at least give you a taste of what I owe you."

"What's gotten into you?" she laughed, glancing around the very public place they were in.

"The thought of getting into you."

She stared at him with a dubious look, waiting for him to explain his behavior.

He blew out a long sigh and stopped his advance, choosing instead to circle her skin lovingly with his thumb. "It feels like we've been dancing around each other for a few days," he said. "I know we're good, but there's still something between us, something we're both not sayin'. I don't like it. I need you closer than that."

Her face crumbled into a sympathetic smile, and she reached up to touch his cheek, watching as his eyes closed instinctively at the touch of her fingers. He was right. There were more than a few things they had left unsaid, and neither of them were used to that type of distance. They were like two puzzle pieces who were always a perfect fit, but had found themselves spun around and misaligned. "I don't like it either," she said softly. "I love you, and we _are_ good. I promise. But you're right, we should talk. I want to." She leaned in to kiss him, hoping that they would have so much more to talk about later.

Rick accepted her offer, pulling her closer and parting her lips with his tongue as she allowed him to go a little further with his wandering hand.

"Now you're the one making me late," she whispered, when he finally released her.

"I'll tell Deanna I needed you more."

She laughed again, the thought that he might actually say that to her causing her cheeks to burn.

"Come on, Sheriff," she said will a roll of her eyes. "I'm sure you have some crime to solve."

…

Rick sat idly at his desk, rolling his chair back and forth and thinking about how he could finish what he had started with Michonne that evening, before Carl got home from practice. His partner was thirty minutes late and he was beginning to wonder if he should be annoyed or worried. He sat up, taking ahold of his computer mouse and began clicking through their calendar to see if there was something he had forgotten about, when he heard the front door slam open and saw Daryl stomping through the entrance.

"I was gettin' concerned," he said, pointing at his watch to illustrate his point.

"Andrea tell you Merle's gettin' out?" his partner asked, tossing his keys and sunglasses on the desk in a huff.

"She didn't mention it. He call you?"

"Called me this mornin' told me to roll out the welcome wagon, cause he'd be out end of the month."

"And what? You swung over to the jail to help him pack?" Rick joked, not seeing how a call with Merle was cause for delay.

"You don't seem too concerned about this."

"Why should I be? He'll get himself put away again soon. Till then gives us a little job security." Rick pushed up out of his chair, gesturing to Daryl to get a move on. "Merle's never been more than a nuisance."

"Yeah, well that's cause he don't call you whenever he needs money or a favor."

"He knows better than that."

"I ain't got a good feelin' about this," Daryl grunted.

"Let's go," Rick said. "We have court today, so we'd better get our first patrol out of the way. We'll deal with Merle later."

…

"Sorry, I just got out of a meeting," Michonne said, speaking quietly into the receiver of her cell phone. She and Andrea had been planning a late lunch via text and her friend was tired of typing, deciding instead to call. Michonne dipped out of the conference room, digging through her purse with one hand as she walked the long, tiled corridor to the ladies room on the upper floor of her building. "Can you drive? I rode in with Rick."

"Sure," Andrea agreed. "Where are we eating?"

Michonne searched her mental directory for a lunch spot close to the drugstore, hoping to make an inconspicuous run in while her friend waited in the car. She found the mints she was looking for in her bag, popping one in her mouth as she pushed through the bathroom door with her shoulder. "Let's go to Marcy's," she suggested, considering the small cafe to be her best bet.

"Fine, but I'm not getting the salad again, the servings are tiny."

"That's kinda the point," Michonne teased, entering one of the stalls and hanging her purse on the back of the door. She wedged her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder, hiking her skirt up and her panties down. "How's one o'clock?"

Sitting on the cold seat of the toilet, and resting her elbow on her thigh and her chin in her palm, she prepared to relieve herself of the multiple bottles of water she had consumed so far that morning. She listened as Andrea spoke briefly to someone in her office, dipping her head to study her manicure while she waited, and that's when she saw it- the blush colored stain, ruining her satin panties and her last shreds of hope.

Michonne's eyes welled instantly at the sight. There had been no warning this time, none of the telltale signs she knew so well, and she clenched her jaw with anger and humiliation at how easily she'd trusted her dishonest body. As if on cue, the pain started below her belly, sharp and undeniable, and she started to wonder if it had really snuck up on her this time, or she had simply ignored its approach; willed away the signs. There was no denying it now.

"Make it one thirty." Andrea finally said, oblivious to the silence that had taken over the other end of the line. "I've got a mountain of paperwork here."

Michonne covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle the quick, angry breaths building in her chest. After all this time, after all that had happened this month, why would fate deceive her, give her an entire day to taste her dream, hold it in her hand, believe in it? She crushed her eyes shut, willing herself calm, begging her tears not to run and reveal just how much she had believed. She felt like screaming, like throwing something, or pounding her fist into the wall, but instead she dropped her forehead into her hands, giving in to the utter exhaustion that kept her from doing any of those things.

"Michonne?" Andrea said, waiting on an answer.

Her anger quickly gave way to defeat, her shoulders slumping and her clenched jaw dropping into a tired, blank expression. "I'm sorry, Andrea" she said. "Actually, something just came up. I can't do lunch today." Her words came out slow and mumbled, even the muscles in her face too tired to assist her in yet another excuse.

"Okaaaay," Andrea said. She was clearly annoyed, but her ruined lunch plans were the last on the list of disappointments for Michonne.

"I'll call you later," she said, ending the call in the middle of her friend's rebuttal and tossing her phone back into her bag.

She dealt with the matter at hand, glad that her overconfidence hadn't led to unpreparedness, and smoothed her wrinkled skirt, before readying herself to go back out into the cruel world. She took a deep breath, clearing her throat of the mucous that had gathered there to accompany her welling eyes, and stepped into the otherwise abandoned bathroom.

Ambling over to the bank of sinks, she washed her hands, drying them under the forceful hot air and busied herself by adjusting her overworked hair pins, pulling one out and holding it between her teeth while she replaced a fallen loc of hair. Glancing at herself in the mirror as she reinserted the pin, she caught a glimpse of her dejected eyes, her crestfallen mouth, and the levee finally broke.

Tiny whimpers forced their way from Michonne's lips, turning to building sobs and before she knew it she had backed away from the mirror, straight into the wall. She slid her back down the cold tile until she was sitting on the floor and dropped her head onto her folded arms. Resting against her knees pulled to her chest, she wept harder than she had in a long time. She cried so hard that she stopped attempting to choke back her volume, not caring in the least who could hear her, until she heard the door creak open.

Michonne scrambled to her feet, wiping her mascara with her thumbs as Deanna entered the small room and startled at the sight of her. Seeing the normally composed and polished woman reduced to tears was disorienting and Deanna furrowed her brow, searching for her voice. "Michonne," she finally stuttered out. "What's wrong?" She took another careful step toward her, reaching out a hand to touch Michonne's elbow.

"I'm sorry, Deanna," she said, sniffing a couple more times and taking a deep breath. "I'm fine, I just...it's nothing." She whisked her purse from the counter and started to head for the door, but Deanna stopped her, tightening her grip on her arm.

"It doesn't look like nothing," the older woman said softly. "Stay for a minute."

She sighed, turned around to take a spot leaning against the counter, while Deanna did the same. "It's just another bad month," she explained, embarrassed by her display.

"I'm sorry," Deanna said simply, having been privy to some of the broader details of her plight. She stood shoulder to shoulder with the woman she considered her protege, and let her have another moment to steady her ragged breath before she spoke. "Michonne, I'm sure you've noticed I'm a bit of an old lady to have a son who is just graduating high school." She chuckled at her self deprecation, and Michonne granted her a polite smile in response. "Most people assume it was my choice to have Nicholas so late in life, given my position," she said, "but the truth is, after being blessed with Spencer, my husband and I couldn't seem to give him a sibling no matter how hard we tried." A melancholy smile formed on her lips at the memory, and she turned to meet Michonne's red rimmed eyes with her own wistful ones. "The better part of my career was built as a distraction, Michonne, a salve for the pain of not being able to get pregnant. Maybe it was always supposed to be that way, or maybe I'm just really good at making lemonade out of lemons, but either way, when I was in it, mired down in the despondency of it all, all I could see was the anger I had at life for not working out the way I wanted, the way I planned."

Michonne slowly turned her shoulders to face her boss and friend, when she began to realize what she was offering. "I had no idea," she said, looking down at the diminutive woman with an expectant, pleading look. She needed this. She was tired of the well wishes and the apologies from people who had never known the same kind of pain and frustration. Even Rick; though he was hurting too, she knew his pain was different than hers.

"Maybe I should have told you this story before," Deanna sighed, taking her own comfort in the commiseration. "I just didn't want the next part to weigh on you. You see, going through all of that heartache wore heavily on my marriage. Reg is a wonderful man, and I love him, but seeing me through that was his one big failure. He just didn't know how to be there for me and I didn't tell him." Deanna reached over, taking Michonne's hand in both of hers and her smile grew more genuine. "Seeing you and Rick last night, I know that's not a problem for you two, but Michonne, these things have a way of eating us up from the inside if we keep them there. You may not see it now, but someday this pain will be useful to you. You have to find its purpose in your life, what you want to do with it. For me it was this office, and then Nicholas. Sometimes shouldering the pain of not getting what we want gives us the strength to accept what we need. None of this was how I planned it, but here I am with the life I am supposed to be leading and so much more strength than I ever knew I had. That's what my pain taught me. What are you going to do with yours?"

Michonne felt the sobs building in her chest again as she reached over to embrace the woman who had become so much more than a boss. Her words had kindled a flame she had been trying desperately to douse. She had been sidestepping every sign that had popped up in front of her, for fear of missing the one she wanted, but it was becoming clear that she wasn't in control of the cards she was being dealt, only of how she played the hand. That was what Deanna had learned from her story, and she'd challenged Michonne to see the same.

"Thank you, Deanna," she choked out. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

"You're welcome, Michonne. Now why don't you go get some fresh air, hmm? See if you can get Rick to meet you for lunch."

"Actually," Michonne said, "I think I have something I need to go do. Do you mind if I go out for a little while?"

"Take the rest of the day, Michonne," Deanna said. "We can manage. You do what you need to do and I'll see you back here tomorrow."

"Thank you, Deanna. Really. I just need a minute to clean up," she chuckled, gesturing to her smeared mascara.

"Of course," Deanna said, squeezing her hand and turning to go. "Good luck, sweetheart."

When she was alone, Michonne dug around in the bottom of her purse, looking for the spare key she had to Rick's car. She finally found it, after vowing to add the bag to the list of things she needed to reorganize. Knowing Rick would be in court today anyway, she sent him a text to let him know she was taking his car. He wouldn't be suspicious, she'd done it before when their schedules had changed unexpectedly. Even if this trip took longer than expected, he had his cruiser or Daryl to give him a ride. Most likely he'd wait for her, finding plenty of work to do at the station.

Deanna's words were ringing in her ears as she strode purposefully out of the building and toward the parking lot to Rick's SUV. She needed to go and see about a different plan, one that she hadn't crafted herself, but just may have been made for her.

…

Michonne stepped up to the familiar wooden door, noting how much harder this was without Rick beside her. The first time she had come she was able to lean on him, let him lead her gently in the right direction while trusting him to keep her heart safe. He was her rock and she was starting to wonder if she was right to attempt this without him. On the outside she was the less emotional of the two of them, more stable as Andrea put it, but he was always present, vigilant, and she counted on him just as much. She had to do this herself, though. She had to see if this was what she wanted, for her.

Tipping her face to the sky, she summoned all of the courage she had and brought her hand to the door, knocking twice and waiting.

"Michonne," Shelly smiled, greeting her warmly as she opened the door. "It's good to see you again."

"I appreciate you letting me come by on such short notice," Michonne said, accepting Shelly's invitation into the house. She paused for a moment when she entered the foyer, feeling the reluctance that had gripped her the last time she was here. This time it was sharing space with a new determination.

"Of course. It's just me and Judith today," Shelly said carefully, searching Michonne's face for her reaction. She stayed rooted to her spot in the entry, as if afraid to invite her guest into the room where Judith was most likely sleeping, given the quiet house. "You didn't say why you wanted to visit, did everything go ok last night with Enid and Carl?"

"Yes," Michonne answered, snapping out of her own head at the concern in Shelly's voice. "Of course. I'm sorry, I should have said as much. Enid is a great girl; we like her very much."

"Good. I know she was excited about going. Thank you for that. She doesn't get excited about much." Beginning to feel silly for hovering in the entryway, Shelly took a few careful steps into the living room, waving Michonne along with her.

"She's had a hard time?" Michonne asked, knowing the answer, but still wanting just a little glimpse into the kind of life Enid had been dealt. She smoothed her skirt nervously, stealing quick glances past her host as she walked behind. She saw the bassinet swinging peacefully in the corner, reminding her of the real reason for her visit, and she swallowed, hard.

"She has," Shelly nodded. "But we're hoping that will change. She doesn't know it yet, but my husband and I are planning on adopting her. If everything goes well, we were going to tell her at Christmas."

The smile on Shelly's face took Michonne by surprise and she squinted her eyes to study it. She recognized the sentiment; It was genuine joy, the comfortable look of a heart's completion and she looked at the woman in awe.

"How...how did you know?" she asked softly. "I mean, how did you decide she was supposed to be yours?" It was an intimate question, and Michonne felt almost guilty for asking it of a total stranger, but just like she'd needed to hear what Deanna had said to her, she needed to hear from this woman too.

Shelly seemed to understand that, her expression changing to one of empathy, solidarity even, and Michonne instantly knew they shared more than just the struggle of raising a couple of moody teenagers.

"It was a choice as much as it wasn't," she said, stepping toward the crib. She could hear the baby starting to stir, cooing and whimpering softly as the smooth stroke of the swing began to jerk with her movements. "Enid came into our lives, and we knew she was what we both had been looking for...but we had to decide to accept that gift."

Michonne watched as Shelly switched off the mechanical push of the swing, waiting until it had stopped completely before reaching in. She lifted Judith out and her tiny legs stretched inside a footed onesie, decorated with little pink flowers. Michonne took a step back, reflexively retreating from the feeling bubbling up in her chest. She closed her eyes and saw the image of Rick kissing the little girl's head, so tenderly, so naturally. Maybe she could just touch her little hand, she thought, trying to work up the courage to reach out, but Judith began to fuss with more vigor, balling her fists and opening her mouth wide in a half yawn, half scream.

"She's hungry," Shelly said. "Excuse me for just a moment, while I get a bottle."

Michonne nodded, watching her host exit while the baby continued to make her demands. She took the opportunity to glance around the room, smiling longingly at the mess of infant related items strewn about on every surface. She thought of her own immaculate living room, its order only occasionally marred by a forgotten pair of Carl's shoes or Rick's jacket slung over the back of the chair. What she wouldn't give for this kind of disorder. She reached down to the arm of the couch, picking up a white, muslin blanket that had been cast aside, and stroked it between her fingers. She brought the blanket up to her face, allowing herself a tiny whiff of the perfect infant scent that lingered on it, before dropping it again.

Shelly came back then, holding a quieter Judith in her arms. She'd been pacified by a bottle of formula and was drifting in and out of sleep as she sucked. Shelly took a seat in an over stuffed arm chair, propping her elbow on a pillow, and gestured for Michonne to make herself comfortable. She pushed aside a plush bear that jingled as it rolled to the other side of the couch and sat down stiffly, unsure exactly how comfortable she wanted to get.

"So tell me about Carl," Shelly said, sensing Michonne needed a lighter topic given the way her eyes were focused on Judith and her lip was quivering ever so slightly. "From what we've seen he seems like a sweet young man, very polite."

"He gets that from his father," Michonne smiled, thinking of Rick's ever present southern charm. She tended to be the one who needed to be reminded of her manners from time to time.

"Well, he seems to be quite fond of you," she replied, wiggling the end of the bottle so Judith would continue to suckle. "Of course we've lived in town for a long time, so we weren't strangers to what happened with his mother. When Enid said she was friendly with Carl Grimes, we recognized the name immediately."

"Of course," Michonne said distractedly as she kept her eyes on Judith, spellbound by her innocent little movements.

"I try not to get involved in the town gossip. I've been on the other end of it myself, being my age with no children of my own. Anyway, I was pleased to see he seemed so well adjusted after all that he went through. I assume some of that was your doing, by the way he talks about you."

Michonne smiled amusedly, knowing it was quite the opposite; she was the one who owed Carl for a great deal of her own healing. "He's the best kid I know," she replied, simply.

"Oh, shoot," Shelly exclaimed, looking down at her blouse that had been soaked in an instant by Judith's stealthy spit up. She stood quickly, her eyes darting around for a cloth in the chaos of the room. Judith didn't appreciate the interruption and began wailing again, louder than before. "Do you mind?" Shelly said, flustered and holding the baby out to Michonne with pleading eyes.

"Oh, no," Michonne said, shaking her head, her own eyes going wide. "I can't…" She had come here to test the waters, to tread lightly at the edge of the shore, not dive in.

Shelly looked frazzled by her refusal, attempting to hold the baby with one arm and wipe at her shirt with her free hand.

Michonne watched her fuss for a moment, before guilt started to weigh on her and she reluctantly reached out her hands. Shelly paused, sensing Michonne's struggle and carefully handed the baby to her, watching as she cradled Judith in her hands, her arms outstretched awkwardly.

"I'm just going to get another shirt," Shelly whispered, but Michonne didn't hear her, nor did she see her slowly back away and disappear around the corner. She tilted her head to the side, causing an escaped tear to roll down her cheek, and an unexpected smile overtook her lips as her face crumpled with the onslaught of every emotion that her heart was pumping out.

Judith's cries slowed as her own little face gave way to her confusion, her large eyes intrigued by Michonne's reaction. She slowly pulled the baby closer and took in a deep pull of air, scented with powder and the faint remnants of her regurgitated formula; it was the sweetest smell she'd ever experienced. She rested the baby on her shoulder, her weight and warmth feeling like a missing appendage as she tipped her cheek to rest gently against Judith's head.

Shelly returned, drying her hands on a fresh burp cloth and she came to stand in front of the two, unsure if she should interrupt. She waited silently, watching Michonne meditate on the moment while Judith wrapped her fingers around a loc of her hair and cooed quietly.

"I just needed to see her," she finally admitted, her voice breaking with the confusion that comes from not trusting your own heart. "I don't know the rest yet."

Shelly nodded, her own eyes closing in reverence to what she was witnessing. "I think that's ok," she whispered. "You don't have to know everything. But if you really want the answer, I think you'll be able to find it."

Michonne peered down at the infant who'd fallen back into a peaceful slumber, content and confident in her arms, and she leaned in to kiss the same spot that Rick had, relishing the warmth on her lips.

She needed to go to him, to rest for awhile in the safety of his presence. That's where she would find the answer. "I have to give her back now," she said, surprised at how much she didn't want to.

Shelly nodded and reached for Judith, carefully taking the sleeping baby into her arms, while Michonne stood.

"I appreciate this." Michonne touched the bottom of Judith's foot, taking one more minute to peruse her little features. "Can I come back?"

"Of course," Shelly said. "Whenever you need."

Michonne turned and walked to the door, Shelly following. "Thank you, Shelly," she said. She pressed her lips to her fingers, then her fingers to the tips of Judith's toes. "I'll call you."

"I'm looking forward to it, Michonne."

…

Rick ended the day just as he had started it: waiting for Michonne. His shift had been over for awhile and he was back at his desk updating case files and keeping a watchful eye out for her arrival. When she had asked to take the car he hadn't thought anything of it, but now the sky was starting to turn pink with the impending sunset and she hadn't so much as sent him a text message with an update of her arrival time. He was contemplating whether he should just take his cruiser home, or put out an APB on her when he finally heard the front door swing open. She swept in on the cool evening air, her light weight coat floating around her as she walked, and he smiled innately at the sight of her.

He lifted himself from the chair, about to gather his things for the ride home, when her unusual demeanor caught his eye. She barely greeted the front desk staff, her eyes trained on him as she strode purposefully across the room, and his heart beat started to pick up pace when he noticed her puffy eyes and slumped shoulders. He took a few short steps, meeting her halfway and quickly wrapped his arms around her; she melted into him immediately.

"You ok?" he asked, his lips pressed into the top of her head.

Michonne looked up at him, her brown eyes glassy and red rimmed, and silently shook her head. "I'm not pregnant," she blurted, realizing that was only the beginning of the story she had to tell him. "I thought maybe I was...I was late and...I just really thought I was this time, Rick."

Rick felt his own shoulders slump at the news and his eyes began to burn at the sight of her weary face. They'd had this conversation over twenty times now, but he could feel that this time was different, this time she wasn't hiding the blow. "I'm sorry, Michonne," he said, squeezing her tightly and whispering into her hair. "I was waiting for you to tell me. I was hoping maybe this time was it. We'll keep tryin', we can…"

"I went to see Judith," she interrupted, placing a hand on his chest to stop his familiar refrain. "That's where I was. That's why I needed the car."

He stared at her for a beat, trying to catch up to the turn she had taken. It was the last thing he had expected her to say and a line of questions started to form on his tongue. "By yourself?" he asked, picking the simplest one.

She nodded her answer, and Rick's hand found the back of her head, pulling her against his chest again. He did a sweep of the room, taking note of the few officers left at their desks who were trying not to notice the exchange. He had no idea where this conversation was going, but he knew they weren't having it there.

"Come 'ere," he said, tucking her under his arm and leading her down a long corridor at the back of the station. They passed a few offices and he glanced inside, finding them all still occupied. Finally they came upon an empty interrogation room, and he ushered her through the door, switching on the light and closing the door behind them.

"I had to go," she started, feeling the need to empty her chest of the building admission.

Rick pulled a chair out from under the long wooden table and she dropped into the seat, exhausted from the weight of the thoughts swirling around inside her head. Rick ignored the extra chair, choosing instead to crouch in front of her on the tile floor. He reached for her hand, holding it steady on her lap as she spoke.

"I would have asked you to come," she said, "but I had to go my own way this time. Deanna told me I needed to figure out what I was going to do with all this pain, how I was going to use it, and I thought of Judith...and of you- of what you were so willing to do with yours…"

"Michonne," he said, his face contorting in something akin to guilt. "I don't want you to try to feel somethin' because I do. That's not how this works."

"No," she said, "it's not, and that's not what I was doing. I wasn't trying to feel what you feel, Rick. I was trying to see if there was something there that I was keeping out, a message that I was too afraid to let myself see."

Rick's expression changed slowly, careful not to give away the hope he was harboring for a certain answer. "And was there?" he whispered.

She nodded succinctly, tipping her head to capture his gaze. "But you already know that, don't you?"

He did know. He was tired too, defeated, disillusioned, sad, but when he saw Judith he felt like she was the answer to the question of why. Why they were struggling, why he was there at that moment when she was born, why he kept coming back. He knew it so strongly, but the fact that Michonne didn't threw him. He studied the confusion on her face, afraid to add to it. He couldn't ask her to give up on her dream for his gut feeling, all he could do was repeat the words he'd offered her in Shelly's bathroom. "I just think there may be another way," he whispered, leaving her eyes and focusing on the floor.

"I held her in my arms," Michonne said, her tone reticent as if she were recalling a dream, "and she looked at me...it was like she knew something I didn't, Rick, and she was just waiting for me to figure it out. I went there thinking it was to make a choice, but I don't think the choice was ever really mine to make." She let a small smile creep onto her pained face. "That's how you feel too, right?"

Rick dragged his free hand over his mouth, rocking back onto his heels, nervously. She was asking him for a direct answer, for him to say the words out loud and he couldn't keep avoiding it. Hershel's words came rushing back to him, tapping on his shoulder and demanding to be heard. _Help her see._

"Yeah" he admitted, "I suppose it is." He squeezed the hand he was holding and dropped onto his knee. "Michonne, I know Judith isn't part of you or of me, not like you imagined. Hell, nothing about it is how we thought it would be, but I'm gonna tell you what I think it is you'd say to me, if you could. I think I was meant to find her, Michonne and I think...I think she was meant to be yours. I think she's supposed to belong to us."

Michonne pulled in a long breath, chewing on her lip and tipping her face to the ceiling to keep her eyes from spilling. "That's a lot," she breathed out.

"It is."

"But how did you know, Rick?" she whispered. "How do you? This is a child's future, we have to know."

She squeezed his hand as if it were a lifeline holding her afloat and he closed his eyes, searching his brain for an answer he could make sense of, something he could say with certainty. He'd learned a long time ago that nothing in life was certain, but he also knew there are some things you just can't deny. Something about Judith had connected with something in him; he'd doubted it, wrestled with it, then tried to ignore it, but in the end he couldn't. He saw the same realization playing out on her face now. He'd discounted it so easily, the suggestion of fate or some preordained encounter, but seeing her there, pleading with him to help her understand the feeling that had washed over them both, something in his gut told him there was no other way to see this.

"Look at us, Michonne," he said, scooting closer to her and smiling. "Look at everything we've been through. We both thought we were on the right path, then life took a hard turn in the other direction. Things went bad for you, things went bad for me, but look where we ended up. A lot of plans had to be ruined for you and me to find this perfect thing together." He gestured between the two of them, then reached for her other hand, holding them both in his. "It took a lot of choices we didn't really get to make. I don't know for sure...but I think maybe this is like that."

Michonne nodded again, running her hand under her nose as she laughed quietly. It was all becoming so clear now that she had let herself see. She hadn't anticipated the kind of love she had found with Rick, yet here she sat, reveling in it on a daily basis. He had been fighting his own battle when she met him and by retreating from hers, she'd run right into his arms, both of them sharing a sigh of relief when they finally found what all of that heartache had brought them. That was the kind of moment Deanna was describing.

"I want to see Judith again," she whispered, taking back one of her hands to wipe at her eyes, then his as they started to well. "I want us to go together. Maybe Carl, too."

"Yeah?" he asked, nuzzling into her palm with his cheek.

"Yeah." She leaned forward as he straightened his back, gathering her in his arms. "We should talk to him."

"Ok," he agreed with a smile, holding her tight to his chest. "Do you want to sleep on it? Make sure?"

"No. Let's do it tonight," she said, shaking her head and leaving a damp trail on his shirt from her tears. "I miss her already."

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 **Thank you so much for your reviews, everyone. They give me life.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Hi all, here is a little fluffy chapter. It's a little on the short side, and probably could have been part of the last, but I had to take a little break after what happened in chapter 7 :) Thanks so much for all of your reviews. They mean the world to me.**

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Carl walked into the house at the usual time, his gym bag and cleats slung over his shoulder. Morgan had dropped him off after practice like he did every once in awhile, since Michonne and he started splitting driving duties for Carl, and Morgan's son Duane. He tossed his stuff on the floor, making his way through the quiet, dark house to the kitchen where he saw the only light that was on.

Peering around the corner, he spotted his dad and Michonne standing beside the kitchen island, their foreheads pressed together while they whispered back and forth, and he froze. He had walked in on a few of these moments before and he contemplated turning around and heading up to his room before they saw him. As much as she told him she was ok, and his dad assured him everything was fine, seeing Michonne cry again was something he wanted to avoid if he could. For a kid he'd seen a lot of adults cry. His mom cried all the time, seemingly for no good reason, and though he'd never actually witnessed his dad shed any tears, he'd seen the evidence on his face after his mom left with Phillip, and he didn't have to stray too far to get to that conclusion. But seeing Michonne breakdown, not just his parent but his friend, and also the strongest person he knew? That was hard to watch.

He took a step back, about to retreat, when instead of crying he thought he caught the sound of her laughter. He looked closer and noticed they were both smiling. They were kissing, too, which he wasn't exactly thrilled with watching, but it was better than what he had assumed was going on. He cleared his throat and watched as his dad pulled away with a grin that didn't fade, even when he realized they'd been caught.

"How was practice?" Rick asked, without letting go of Michonne. She turned around in his embrace revealing a matching smile, and Rick wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her head.

"It was fine," Carl replied, his eyebrow raised at his parents' odd behavior, they usually scurried away from each other when he walked in on them. Deciding it was safe, he came all the way into the room and headed for the fridge. "What's for dinner?"

"Pasta," Michonne answered, remaining comfortably in his father's arms.

"It's gonna be a little bit," Rick said. "Take a seat." He gestured to the kitchen table, finally releasing his hold on Michonne so she could do the same.

Carl plopped into the chair across from her and Rick pulled a stool from the island, seating himself at the head of the table, in between the two.

"What's going on with you guys?" Carl asked, slouching comfortably and tossing a look between Rick and Michonne. "Why are you both smiling like that?"

"Michonne and I wanted to talk to you about somethin'"

"Ok," he said nervously. His dad hadn't grinned this much since he first met Michonne and it was starting to make him uncomfortable.

"Michonne is going to take some time off from the campaign," Rick said, glancing at her quickly before continuing.

"What? Why? It's almost over." Carl moved his gaze to her as well, wondering why she looked so happy. It couldn't be a good sign for her to be giving up before the election. "Does this have to do with the thing about Gregory? The TV ads?"

"No," Rick said, shaking his head and reaching for Michonne's hand. "Everything is fine, Maggie's going to take over, so Michonne can focus on somethin' else for a bit."

Carl studied them both, trying to decipher their conspiratorial smiles. The only thing Carl could think of that would make both of his parents act this ridiculous was the only thing that had made them both so sad. "Are you…?" he squinted at Michonne, dropping his gaze to her midsection instinctively.

"No," she said. Her voice sounded sad, but her eyes were still smiling, and Carl squinted in confusion.

"Spit it out, you guys," he finally said, wearing of the guessing game and the silly grins.

Rick nodded, straightening on his stool and adjusting his expression for the moment. "Michonne's not pregnant," he said, "but do you remember the baby from the ambulance she and I went to see a week ago? The one that lives with Enid?"

"Judith? Yeah, I remember."

"Well, we've been thinkin' about it and we've decided we want her to come live with us, be part of our family."

"You guys want to be foster parents like Shelly?" Carl asked, feeling as if he was missing something.

"No," Michonne joined in, squeezing Rick's hand as she spoke. "We want to adopt her."

Carl raised his eyebrows, slowly coming around to their point. "So she'd be my sister?," he asked. "Like Katie?"

"Yes," Rick nodded, "like your mom's daughter, but she would live with us. It'll be a lot different. Having a baby around is a big adjustment, and we want to make sure you're ok with this."

Carl nodded now, contemplating the way his life was about to change. He only saw his half sister once a month, and every so often on holidays, but she was alright. And Judith was pretty cute, he thought. Enid seemed to like her. He figured Michonne and his dad would probably do most of the work, so it was no big deal to him. "You already said you guys were going to have a baby, so I guess this is no different." He pushed away from the table and crossed his arms over his chest while Rick and Michonne shared another grin. "Man, two sisters," he sighed. "Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"You couldn't have found me a brother in the back of an ambulance?"

Rick and Michonne chuckled at his joke and Rick ran his thumb along his bottom lip, still smiling. "I didn't have much say in the matter," he said. "And besides, Michonne's out numbered here now. It's only fair."

"I suppose so," Carl agreed, before pushing out of his chair and walking around the table. Rick's eyes followed him around, and he dropped Michonne's hand as Carl bent to wrap his arms around her shoulders. "Judith is really lucky," he said, squeezing her tightly.

Michonne hugged him back from her seat, wiping at her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Thank you Carl," she whispered, resting her cheek on his arm before he pulled away.

"So why do you have to take time off from the campaign?" he asked, taking a seat again in the chair beside her this time. "Is she coming right away?"

"Hopefully soon," Michonne said. "Adoptions can take a really long time, but we want to apply for guardianship of her now. There are hearings and social worker visits...a ton of paperwork to be done. We're ready and we want to commit the time it takes to get through all of that as quickly as possible."

"Sounds like a good job for a lawyer," Carl shrugged. "What do you want me to do?"

"We may need you to help out in the campaign office again," she said.

"And I'm going to need some help turning the spare room into a nursery," Rick added. "You up for it?"

"I am," he nodded.

"Good. It's settled then," Rick said, standing and resting his hands on his hips and turning his gaze back to Michonne. "We'll call Gabe on Monday. For now, let's enjoy a quiet dinner. It may be one of the last."

Carl watched Michonne beam up at him in that way she had that made him feel really proud of his dad. He was lame sometimes and not nearly as funny as he thought he was, but he must be doing something right. Judith was lucky to have him, too, he thought.

…

Michonne was tucked under the comforter with a cup of tea and a book when she finally heard Rick on the staircase. The floor creaked under his steps as he rounded the corner, peering into the room to make sure he wasn't going to wake her when he approached.

"How'd that go?" she asked, taking in his tired eyes as he shut their door behind him.

"You were right," he sighed. "It was a good idea to get all the tough conversations out in one day." He climbed onto the foot of the bed with his knees, and crawled forward until he was stretched out over her extended legs, his head in her lap. "But it was still uncomfortable as hell."

"I'm sure you did great," she said, setting aside her book and running her fingers through his hair. "What did you say?"

"You're gonna make me relive it?"

"Just give me the cliff notes."

Rick sighed, turning his face so it was buried in the blanket she was wrapped in. "I told him just cause it hasn't happened for you and I, don't mean that sex isn't the way babies usually come about, and that if he's getting serious with a girl he needs to remember that. I also told him he was way too young to even be thinking about that and to keep his pants on and his hands to himself."

Michonne laughed out loud at Rick's idea of discussion, feeling a little pang of regret for how awkward that must have been for Carl. "Well, it was good timing," she said. "He was bound to have some questions after all of this. I'm glad you two talked."

"Me too," he agreed, rolling off of her and standing up to undress. He pulled his t shirt over his head, crossing the room to toss it in the laundry pile. Unbuckling his jeans and sliding them off, he returned to the bed in just his boxer shorts, getting in beside her.

"It's certainly been a day," she sighed, nuzzling close to him. "I feel like my whole world was broken and put back together in the span of twelve hours."

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that by yourself," he said. "But I'm glad Deanna was there. It's about time she said something useful."

"Stop it," Michonne laughed, pinching the skin on his side. "Don't be terrible."

He shrugged playfully, feeling zero remorse for his terribleness.

Michonne pulled up onto her knees, and threw one over his waist to straddle him. "So you're making plans for a nursery?" she said with a smile.

"I figured it should be first on the list." He rested his hands on her hips, running his thumbs along the bare skin that peeked out from her sleeping shorts, and letting his eyes graze.

"What else is on the list?" she asked, grinning excitedly, in a way that brought his heart a long lost peace.

"You tell me?"

"Hmmm," she said, her eyes searching an imaginary itinerary. "A crib...a high chair."

"Car seat," he added. "One of those baby wearin' thangs."

"Oh yeah?" she smirked. "I can see you wearing one of those. You can strap her in right above your holster."

"I was thinkin' that'd be more your thang," he chuckled.

She smiled back at him, her thoughts running a mile a minute. "We need to make a real list."

"And talk to Maggie about doing the bigger stuff with the campaign," he added.

"I hate leaving you hanging with six weeks to go," she said, her lips pursing and the sparkle in her eyes dimming slightly. "You're sure we shouldn't wait until after the election."

"I think we've waited long enough for this, don't you?" he said, reaching up to trail a finger along her jaw.

"I do."

"Besides," he shrugged, "like Carl said, this is a job for a lawyer."

"And maybe you know a few judges who can help us get this done quick?" she asked, glad he was feeling the same urgency. They had absolutely waited long enough and now that she had her heart set on this, she was going to use every tool she had available to get Judith where she belonged.

"I might know one," he said, flipping through his mental contact list. "I want her here as soon as possible. While she's still small enough to feel like she was always ours."

Michonne smoothed her palms over the broad expanse of his pecs, catching the beat of his heart under the pads of her thumbs on each sweep. "She's barely a month old," she said, soothingly. "She'll know we're hers the same way we know she is ours. We'll call Gabe Monday and Shelly said we could come back to see her anytime. We should bring Carl."

Rick nodded at the plan, still ruminating on the way Judith would come to know them as her family. "Carl was right, you know," he said, quietly. "Judith is lucky. She needs a mother and that's what you are, Michonne. That's what you already are to Carl, more than he's had with his own." He took a deep breath, cupping her face in his hands. "I think that's how I know that even though she didn't come from me, I can love her like she did, because I see you doing it every day. You've already shown me how."

Michonne's eyes began to well at the sound of Carl's name, remembering how she had overheard him call her that the night before and it had felt so right. She clenched her lids shut, pulling in a calming breath to quell the sobs bubbling in her throat. "I love you both so much," she said, leaning in to press her lips to his.

"We love you too," he said, parting her lips with his tongue to deepen their kiss. He reached up to catch the one tear that had escaped, with a swipe of his thumb. She'd had enough tears for the day, he thought, even if these were happy ones. "So let's get this done," he whispered when he pulled away. "You don't worry about anything else. If I need you, I know where you live."

Michonne laughed, her fingers still roaming his body in an attempt to feel every square inch. "I won't worry," she promised, reaching up to brush through his hair with her fingers.

Rick captured her hand and held it hostage, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. "I wish I could have you tonight," he whispered, his eyes laser focused on her mouth. "I feel like celebratin'"

"You did make me a promise this morning," she smirked. "Guess that will have to be put on hold...but I can still have you." She eased away from his grasp, crawling backwards until she was straddling his knees instead of his lap, and slipped her hands into his boxers, taking him in her hand.

Rick hissed in a sharp breath, eyeing her with an unmistakable expression. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish," he ground out.

"You'll finish," she said, with a mischievous grin as she worked him with her fist.

"I'm racking up quite the debt here." He attempted a chuckle, though he couldn't quite follow through with it, instead he chewed on the inside of his cheek and let his smile slip away into a lustful stare.

"I know you're good for it," she said, dipping her head to meet her hands. "And I know where you live. Now be quiet and let's celebrate."


	9. Chapter 9

Rick sat in the faded, blue rolling chair that Michonne usually claimed, his boots propped up on the aging metal desk as he flipped through some papers that Maggie had presented him with on arrival. The campaign headquarters was set up in an empty office space downtown that the owner had rented to Rick for half the usual price in a show of support when he'd announced he was running. It came with two cubicles that they had made into one command center by removing the dividing panel and Maggie was currently perched on top of the matching desk, swinging her feet while Rick perused the latest numbers.

"It's not even close anymore," Rick said, scanning the end of the month poll numbers that were separated by demographic, and then again by precinct.

"You're definitely pulling ahead," Maggie replied, not as eager to wave the victory flag just yet. "September was a good month, but there's four weeks left to go; still time for an October surprise."

Rick chuckled at her jargon, tossing the pages onto the desk. "It's King County, Maggie, not the White House. Not a lot of surprises around here." As soon as he said it, he remembered the worst surprise of his life had slipped right under his nose in this very place and he sat back in the chair, furrowing his brow.

Maggie followed his train of thought as it played out on his face and she decided to switch gears. Working directly with Rick over the last couple weeks was proving a little more challenging than teaming with Michonne on his behalf, but they'd been friends a long time and she could read him almost as well as his wife.

"So you guys are getting close?" she said, trying out her new strategy of giving Rick breaks in between the strategy sessions. "Michonne said y'all are almost there with the guardianship process."

Rick pulled his feet down, sitting up straighter in his chair and beaming proudly. "Paperwork's all filed, home visit is done. We just have the hearing to get through. Unfortunately, we're dealing with the court's timeframe on that."

"I'm so happy for you, Rick. Both of you."

"Thanks, Maggie. You girls gonna show Michonne a good time tonight? This hasn't been much of a break for her considerin' how much work is involved in this process."

"You can count on us for that," Maggie said with a mischievous grin. "We actually have somethin' planned for her; just a little sprinkle of sorts."

"What's a sprinkle?" he asked, his face contorting at the unfamiliar term.

"It's like a baby shower, but small. Just an excuse for us all to buy baby things and pass them around while we drink our wine."

Rick shook his head at the estrogen fueled idea, but he quickly deduced that Michonne would probably be very touched by the gesture, and so he was too. "She'll like that," he said with a nod. "I guess that's probably one of the things she's thought about...things she wouldn't get to do."

"She's happy, Rick," Maggie said, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "Really. I can see it when she talks about Judith. Her eyes just light up. It's been a long time since I've seen that."

Rick nodded, patting Maggie's hand and settling back into his chair.

"You know, Beth's graduatin' a semester early. She'll be home in January for good, if ya'll need a nanny. I know Michonne is takin' a little time off from work, but after that, you'll need some help."

"We will," Rick agreed. "Especially if I win this thing."

"Well, let's make sure you win this thing," she smiled, pleased with her plan's success. They were back to work and he hadn't even noticed. "Now, I'm thinking one more push with the mailings..."

Rick's cell phone started to ring just as they settled into their conversation and he fished it out of his pocket, answering it on speaker phone.

"Rick," Michonne said, as soon as he connected the call. "Turn on the television."

"I'm at the campaign office," he said, "hold on." He strode across the room to the old, rear projection television set sitting on top of a filing cabinet, and switched it to the local station. The first thing he saw was Gregory standing next to a podium with Merle beside him looking awkward in an ill fitting suit and tie. "What the hell is this?" he asked, grabbing the remote control with his free hand, and turning the volume up, as Maggie came to stand beside him.

"This department is full of loose cannons," Gregory was saying, "and it's time to clean it up once and for all." He was speaking to a room full of reporters, in what looked like a pre-recorded press conference, and Rick peered around what was visible of the room, looking for any more familiar faces. "We can't do that by giving the office over to one of the biggest culprits. Rick Grimes may be the most familiar face in this race, but let's not forget where we've seen that face most often. It's been in the newspapers for incidents just like the one that Mr. Dixon went through at the hands of this department." He gestured to Merle beside him and the clip ended, the local anchor taking back the screen to continue on with the afternoon news.

"Merle couldn't just stay under that rock he's been hiding at?" Maggie said, beginning to pace the small room.

"Should I come down there?" Michonne said, still on the phone.

"No. Do your thing. Maggie will draw up a response," he said, glancing at her and receiving a nod in return. "I'll handle Merle."

"Rick...you need to keep a cool head right now." Her voice was steady, but he could hear the concern in her tone.

"I promise, Michonne. I'll see you at home before you head to Andrea's. Trust me, ok?"

"I trust you."

…

Michonne walked through the door carrying a paper bag filled with wine bottles and various ingredients, and slipped off her boots at the door. She spotted Carl on the couch with a comic book, and she waved him over to help her with her load.

"What's all this?" Carl asked, excitedly. "Looks like you're making those appetizer things I like."

"Sorry, kid," she said, following him into the kitchen. "They're for girl's night."

"Sounds a lot better than the guy's night dad has planned, which is sandwiches and manual labor, by the way."

"You're painting the nursery tonight?" she asked, smiling at the back of his head as he set her bags on the counter.

"Yeah, Uncle Daryl is coming over."

She nodded at the plan, and began organizing items as Carl unloaded them, briefly wondering if Rick and Daryl should be left to their own devices while Merle still had to be dealt with. She didn't finish her thought, though because the two of them came through the door just then, laughing and carrying paint cans and their own shopping bags.

"Hey Daryl," she said, slapping her palm against the one he held out, as she walked past him to greet Rick with a hug

"Hey 'Chonne. You headin' to the hen house tonight?" Daryl smirked.

"Cute," she said, kissing her husband on the mouth. "Can we talk for a second?"

Rick nodded, handing Daryl his bag and following her toward their bedroom, where she took a seat on the bed.

"So, what do you think is behind Merle's sudden reappearance?" she asked, as soon as he had closed the door behind them.

"I don't know," he said. He came to stand before her, setting his hands on his hips, and gave her a pensive look. "Daryl and I are going to find out, though...all by the book. You don't need to worry about this."

"Rick," she said, dragging the syllable out in deference to her tone. "I'm not acting as campaign manager right now, but I'm still your wife."

"I'm not dodging you, Michonne. I'm serious. Merle has an angle and I'm gonna figure out what it is and fix it. He's not helping Gregory out of the kindness of his heart, and he doesn't care enough about me to be acting out of spite alone." He took a step toward her, tipping his head to his shoulder with a smile. "Just do me a favor and put it away for tonight, ok?"

"Alright."

"Good. Go have fun with the girls tonight," he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "We got this."

"Oh, I know we do," she smirked, thankful for his confidence. "And I plan on having plenty of fun." She had earned this night out, and she knew Rick would handle the rest.

…

Michonne balanced a tray of stuffed mushrooms in one hand, a bottle of wine wedged under her elbow, and raised her arm to knock on Andrea's door. Only a moment went by before her friend came to greet her with a half empty cocktail tipping precariously in her hand. "Michonne's here," she yelled, louder than necessary given the size of her condo. If any of the others were there yet, they were surely within hearing distance for a normal level of volume.

Michonne quirked her eyebrow, waltzing past her host intent on unloading her arms and pouring herself a drink. She barely made it through the door, though, when she spotted the backs of three heads, lined up together on the couch, and heard more voices coming from the kitchen just out of eyesight.

"Am I late?" she asked, rhetorically, since she knew she had pulled up at exactly 7pm as instructed.

"Have you ever been?" Andrea smirked.

"Not that I can recall."

The brown bob she had noticed first, swung around at the sound of her voice to reveal Maggie's shining face. Her perpetually perky friend jumped to her feet and squealed as if she hadn't been expecting to see her. Rosita's black ponytail swung around next, followed by a mess of curly and kinky brown strands, as the third woman turned to offer a gleaming smile.

"Karen!" Michonne exclaimed, surprised at the sight of their long distance friend, who was not only the mother of two girls now, but also ran a successful real estate business. She didn't often get to join them for these impromptu get togethers. "It's so good to see you," she said, embracing her with one arm as Maggie moved to take the appetizers from her other.

"It's even better to see you!" Karen returned, her grin growing.

She released Karen with a smile just as Francine and Sasha came out of the kitchen, each carrying a tray of long stemmed champagne flutes with a pretty, pink stick of crystalized candy adorning each glass and slowly turning the liquid a rosy hue.

"Francine!" Michonne said, feeling as if she was playing a game of Who's Behind Door Number One with all of her girlfriends. "You finally made it to one of these."

"I told Abe he was on daddy duty tonight," she said, as she handed her tray to Rosita and hugged Michonne tightly. "This was too important to miss."

Michonne crinkled her brow as she let go of Francine and scanned the room again. All of her friends were wearing the type of grins that looked like they could easily dissolve into teary confessions and they'd barely even started in on the wine. She was about to request an explanation when Tara burst through the door, holding a pink and gold wrapped box in one hand and a large bag of takeout food in the other.

"Did I miss it?" she asked, then spotting Michonne, she sighed out loud. "Stupid traffic."

"You almost made it," Sasha pouted.

"At least the food will still be hot. Hey, Michonne," Tara said, hiding the gift box behind her back and giving her a hug.

Michonne was beginning to understand there was more going on than just their typical wine and yoga pants party. In fact, looking around again, she was the only one wearing the stretchy, cotton bottoms. "Did I miss a memo?" she asked, watching Maggie bounce up and down on her tiptoes, as if she was either extremely excited about something or was overdue for a trip to the restroom.

"Nope," Andrea smiled. "We purposely left you out of the communications. "This is your baby shower!"

"Sprinkle," Maggie corrected, afraid Michonne might balk at the idea. "Just a little somethin', cause we're so excited for you."

Michonne's confusion melted away as a few other details she had missed, began to appear: a stand covered with pink frosted cupcakes on the dining room table, a stack of neatly wrapped gifts on the kitchen island, and tucked into the corner of the room, a beautiful wooden bassinet, piled high with packages of diapers and wipes to the point of overflowing. She brought a hand to her lips, genuine surprise stealing her voice as her eyes bounced from smiling face, to smiling face.

"Did Rick know about this?" she asked, truly taken aback at their ability to plan this under her nose.

"I only told him today," Maggie said. "So he didn't have much time to spill it."

"He didn't spill it, right?" Sasha asked, dubiously.

"He didn't," she assured them, smiling at what she knew must have been a concerted effort. "I can't believe you all did this. It's..it's so kind. Thank you."

She felt her own grin begin to morph into the same sentimental look her friends were wearing, full of surprise and humility. It wasn't that she didn't feel fully ingratiated into the group. She felt that way almost immediately. And she had good friends before she moved here, but nothing like this. She ran a hand under her eyes in a preemptive strike against an emotional scene and turned to embrace Andrea who was standing closest to her.

"You deserve it," Maggie said. "You deserve it all, Michonne. Every bit of happiness that is coming your way."

"Alright," Andrea said, as Michonne dabbed at her eyes again. "Let's not get sappy. This is a Saturday night, open bar baby shower where the mom can actually enjoy the cocktails. It doesn't get much more fun than that."

"Here, here," Sasha said, removing the champagne glasses from the tray and handing them out around the room.

Michonne inspected her flute, watching the tiny pink bubbles ascend to the top, so light, yet so determined, and she thought it the perfect metaphor for her own effervescence. She felt positively buoyant, now that she had let go of so much anger and pain, like her heart was surging toward a destination that had always beckoned her and nothing could hold her back. She would have her daughter with her in a matter of weeks. A little girl that had started out alone but was about to inherit a family that stretched well beyond the little unit she and Rick and Carl had created. Judith was already being welcomed into this circle of friends who all meant the world to each other, just like she herself had been when she had come here alone. She and Judith already had something in common, Michonne thought with a smile.

"Now don't forget, Michonne," Tara said as she accepted a glass. "When you're thinking about God parents, there were two other people on the back of that ambulance that day." She winked at Sasha and received a nod in return.

"You have a point," Michonne laughed.

As soon as the drinks were handed out, Maggie began to give a toast to the little baby that would soon be sharing their home as well as their hearts. Michonne tried and failed to contain all the love she had for these women, letting a couple of tears escape her eyes as she listened. She didn't mind though, as it occurred to her it had been weeks since she'd cried. Not since the day she and Rick decided to take this journey had she found herself overcome, and even now that her eyes were misting up again, she knew each tear that fell was happier than the last.

Each woman lifted their glass to the sky at the conclusion of Maggie's toast, and drained them in dedication.

"I can't tell you how thankful I am for all of you," Michonne said, feeling the buzz of the carbonation rushing her head. "This is amazing, all of it." She wrapped an arm around Maggie, resting her head on her shoulder. "Now, I just have one question," she said, eyeing all of the women at once. "Who's going to open the wine?"

"I'm on it!" Sasha said, heading to the kitchen.

 **...**

"This color looks like ice cream," Carl said, pouring the minty green paint from the can into a flimsy plastic tray, as Daryl cleaned up the packaging from their store bought sandwiches and chips.

"Be careful," Rick replied. He watched the cheap bin bend and flex with the added weight and he had a vision of the cream colored carpet getting an unintended makeover as well. He gestured to Daryl to swap tasks with Carl, as he climbed back up the ladder.

"Looks like one of them Shamrock Shake things from McDonalds," Daryl agreed, as he knelt down to assist the boy. "Kid's gonna get a sweet tooth like 'Chonne starin' at this all day."

Rick smiled at the thought, his mind exploring what other traits Judith would pick up from her, or him. "She didn't want pink," he explained, as he tore off a piece of painter's tape with his teeth and began stretching it out on the last remaining edge of gleaming white ceiling.

Daryl and Carl both shrugged as they resealed the can of paint and began setting out the rollers and brushes. Carl handed Rick a paint brush and small, portable bucket of paint to keep on the ladder, then set about carefully soaking the foam pads in the freshly poured paint and Daryl and he got to work on a large wall, making quick work of their first coat. "This is like when we painted the tree house. Remember, Dad? Michonne picked that color too."

"I guess she did," Rick remembered with a smile. "And she got outta doing the painting part then too."

This was a much easier task than the treehouse though, if he had to choose. The spare room was almost as big as Carl's, with plenty of room for a baby, and it had only taken the three of them a short time to move all of the odds and ends that were being stored there up into the attic via the pulldown ladder in the ceiling. The walls, however, were mostly filled with windows and closet doors, leaving less surface area to cover with the color.

Michonne had picked up a linen white, skirted, upholstered rocking chair with a matching ottoman six months ago, back when she was still hopeful that they would need it, and it was the only thing remaining in the room. The rest of her building collection was piled neatly in the walk in closet of the master bedroom, just waiting for him to finish the paint job before she could arrange everything in its proper place.

In the two weeks since they had made the decision to adopt Judith, Michonne had been on a shopping spree, collecting wall art, and linens, and woven baskets that she arranged perfectly with books and baby blankets. She had the entire nursery planned in a sketchbook, and had even supplied Rick with a little, brown velveteen rabbit that wore a satin bow around its neck in the exact color she wanted the walls, so he could make sure to match it. Daryl hadn't missed the opportunity to rag on him for carrying the toy into the hardware store where they had gone to have the paint mixed earlier that evening, but it was a small price to pay to get her exactly what she wanted, and that always remained his mission.

"So when you gettin' this girl?" Daryl asked, as he stretched to reach the edge of the tape Rick had applied.

"Just waitin' on the court date. I was thinkin' of asking Judge King to pull some strings and get it moved to the top of the pile."

"Good thing we're working on this room then. King will come through."

"I hope so." Rick applied a few more strokes of color to the wall and stood back to admire Michonne's choice. "Carl," he said, gesturing to the wall, "take a picture of this and send it to Michonne."

"Ok, Dad," Carl replied, pulling out his phone just as Rick wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving an errant streak of pale green across his cheek. Carl made sure to get him in the shot as he captured the job well done, snickering as he sent it.

…

Tara threw her head back, one hand wrapped around her midsection and laughed heartily until a painful shot of champagne snorted through her nose. "Ouch, ouch!" she exclaimed through her guffaws. "You gotta stop. I can't breath."

Michonne listened to her and Sasha reminisce about the last time all of them had been together, which just happened to be almost three years ago, when they'd spent New Year's Eve together.

"A few more months and we're going to get to relive the whole thing," Karin joined in, sharing her own smile at the memory. "Mark your calendars for this New Year's."

"I can't wait!" Maggie said.

Michonne laughed quietly as the women continued to tell stories, smoothing her palms over a particularly adorable pair of footed pajamas that Karen had gifted Judith. She was remembering the more private moments of that trip that she had shared with Rick, as she stared at the piles of discarded tissue paper that lay beside her feet, where stacks of presents had previously sat. Maggie and Francine sat on the floor in front of her folding blankets and tiny dresses and placing them back into gift bags for easy transport.

Her heart and her belly were full after an amazing spread of Chinese takeout, followed by a couple of cupcakes from Carol's bakery, sent with her regrets for not being able to attend, and a beautiful, peach colored, three piece layette. She was just starting to wonder how Rick and Carl were doing, when her phone buzzed from its spot on the table, next to her empty wine glass and she reached over them to retrieve it. Carl's picture was a little blurry and she wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a document of their progress or a candid of Rick, taken unbenounced to him; either way it made her smile.

She clicked on the photo and held out her arm to show the color to Andrea, who was perched on the arm of the chair beside her. Her ever snarky friend surprised her with an appreciative sigh, taking the phone from her hand to get a better look. "It's beautiful," she said, handing the phone to Sasha who was craning her neck for a glimpse. "She's going to love it."

…

Rick balanced on the ladder, reaching over his head to swipe a paint brush along the last bit of white wall left above the door in Judith's soon to be nursery. He had sent Carl to bed an hour ago, when they had completed the first coat. Now Daryl was stretched out on the floor, leaning back on his arms as Rick put the finishing touches on the Hemlock green walls.

"How we gonna work this thing with Merle?" Daryl asked. "We know he ain't the brains of this plan."

"No, he ain't. And we have nothing to offer him in exchange for his information on who is."

"You got the time to tail him for awhile? See who he's interacting with?"

"Probably not enough time to keep him from doing more damage."

Daryl sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe we're overestimating him," he said. "With Merle, there's gotta be money involved or he ain't liftin' his finger. Could be once he gets paid, he don't care about keepin' his mouth shut no more."

"Could be. So we just have a little chat?"

"I have a little chat," Daryl said. "You talk to your man, Gregory."

"And say what?"

"Call his bluff. This is a last ditch effort if I ever saw one. Make him see it ain't worth his while."

Rick finished his last stroke of paint and settled his elbow on the top of the ladder, wiping at his brow. He nodded down at Daryl, his eyes reflecting the wheels turning in his head. "Alright, then. That's the plan."

Daryl nodded, standing up from the floor. "That's the plan."

After packing away their work for the night, Daryl bid his friend a good night and headed home as the night flipped the page to early morning. Rick washed up and settled in on the couch with the intention of waiting for Michonne, but that quickly turned to dozing through an old black and white Western playing on the television. That's where he was when the door creaked open, and Michonne tiptoed in. The lights were all off, just the grey reflection from the movie illuminating her path, and she made it all the way into the living room, silently dropping her bags in the corner before he realized her presence.

"Hey," she whispered, as he lifted his head from the couch pillow and squinted in her direction. "Were you waiting up for me?"

"I was," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "I almost made it too."

Michonne smiled, kicking off her shoes and climbing onto the couch with him. She draped herself across his supine form, resting her head on his chest and he groaned playfully, despite her slight frame.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked, his voice still thick from his short brush with sleep. He rested his hands on her backside, taking the opportunity to squeeze at her fleshy, round derriere.

"I did. And you knew about their plan?"

"I heard a little somethin' about it."

She smiled, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt while she reveled in the memories of the evening. "I can't wait to show you everything they got her. The pajamas and dresses...they're all so tiny, and Sasha got her these pretty little tights, and Maggie! You're gonna love this, she found a teeny, little pair of infant size cowboy boots."

Rick grinned as he listened to her gush, greedily soaking up all of her joy and basking in it. He hadn't realized he had been missing this side of her, until it made a return. She hid it well, the abjection she had been carrying just below the surface, but now that it had receded he was getting reaquainted with the liveliness in her eyes and the goofy giddiness she could dissolve into in the right moment. She continued to chatter with palpable glee about each and every item she had received for the baby, her cheery intonation sending ripples of longing down from his chest and into his pants.

"I can't wait to see 'em," he whispered, moving his hands up her torso and under the back of her shirt, where her skin was warm and soft against his fingers. She pressed her hips against his in response to his touch and any inclination to fall back asleep fled from his body.

Rick reluctantly removed one hand from the curve of her back, using it to tip her chin upward. She paused her recounting when he leaned in for an ardent kiss, capturing her mouth mid sentence, her lips already parted and easily breached by his tongue.

Michonne giggled into his mouth, surprised by, but in no way adverse to the interruption.

"You taste like wine and frosting," he said, pulling away to gaze at her face with a heartfelt grin. "Now I _know_ you had a good time."

"Well, I'm glad you waited up for me," she whispered, "cause now I want to have a good time with you."

Rick wasted no time, diving back in. He found her lips again, then placed a hand under each arm and dragged her up his body so they were face to face. Due to her shorter height, he lost the sensation of her hips pressed against his, but the increased access to her jaw and neck made up for it, as he explored all of her favorite spots.

Understanding the sacrifice, she worked one of her thighs in between his legs and immediately felt him harden against the pressure. Her fingers became more determined, working the fastenings on his shirt until they opened, so she could explore the soft patch of chest hair nestled between his pecs.

"You're not too tired?" he asked, taking her earlobe between his teeth and letting his tongue flick firmly against it as he spoke.

A shiver ran down her body at the sensation of his breath on her ear and she nearly gasped, her belly fluttering with anticipation. She knew the way he liked to tease her with a preview of his skills when he planned to use his tongue on her in other ways. He continued to taunt her, nuzzling into her neck with his nose and sucking and licking a languid path down to her collarbone. "I'm wide awake," she promised, her hands finding his belt buckle.

"Good," he said, pushing his hips forward so she could better reach him, but before she could get the metal clasp undone, he wrapped his arms around the backs of her thighs, pulling them toward him in one smooth motion as he sat up. He adjusted slightly so her legs wrapped around his waist, then stood, taking her with him. "I'm ready for bed."

He walked her over to the TV blindly, his face buried in the hair that fell around her shoulders, and she reached down with one hand to turn it off, bathing the room and them in darkness. "I'm ready too," she whispered. "Take me there."


	10. Chapter 10

"Rick, it's good to see you again. Come on in." Judge King walked around his imposing, oak desk, gesturing for Rick to take a spot in the leather chair across from his.

Rick accepted, leaning back in the seat and resting his hat casually in his lap. "I appreciate you seein' me," he said. "I know you're a busy man."

"I can make a little time for an old friend. I've been keeping tabs on the campaign, of course. You're in the home stretch."

"Yeah, we are," Rick nodded. "I'm here 'bout somethin' personal, though. I've got a guardianship hearing comin' up and I was hoping you might help me move it up in line, so we can get it done right away."

"Guardianship? You're taking in a child?"

"Hope to be. My wife and I are tryin' to adopt a little girl. It's uncontested; just need to go through the motions."

"I see," the judge said, stroking his fingers along his greying beard. "And you want to get it moved up?"

"I hope to," Rick repeated, taking notice of the man's sudden reticence. "That a problem?"

The judge sat up in his chair, resting his cloaked arms on the desktop and folding his hands. "Like I said, Rick, I've been keeping tabs on the campaign. It seems things have heated up a bit over the last few days. Maybe you shouldn't be pushing to have this heard right now."

Rick straightened in his seat, tipping his head to squint at his colleague. "What does that mean, Zeke?" he asked, taking the liberty to drop formalities.

"Rick, I can not guarantee this will come across my bench. If I could, or if it were appropriate for you to request so, I would agree immediately, but I can't and it's not. The latest ads have stirred up some unpleasant memories. I can't promise you another judge will not take that into consideration."

Rick stared across the desk at the man he had known almost his entire professional career and regarded his empathetic frown. He had gone there banking on Ezekiel's help and despite his anger and disappointment at the words he was hearing, he understood that he was receiving it. It wasn't making the blow any easier to take, though.

"I understand," he said quietly, standing from the chair and setting his hands on his gun belt. A feeling only one step removed from rage bubbled up in his chest at the thought of being back where he started. Three years and Michonne later and he was still feeling the ripple effect from his short dalliance with derangement. He wasn't the same man he was then, though. He wasn't going to lose his mind, and he also wasn't just going to roll over and take it. He hung his head, running his thumb over his brow in an effort to soothe the pressure collecting in his temples.

"Just give it some time to blow over," Zeke said. "It will be settled in a month, one way or another and the collective, selective memory will forget once again."

"Yeah, well, I appreciate you seein' me," he repeated, turning toward the door of Zeke's chambers. "And I appreciate your honesty."

"I wish you luck, Rick, in all of these endeavors. I know I'll see you soon." Judge King stood, nodding a farewell to Rick as he walked away. "Bide your time, my friend," he called, "your recompense will arrive soon enough."

Rick left the courthouse, taking the large granite steps two at a time as he headed to the parking lot where his vehicle was parked in its usual spot. He slid in behind the wheel, contemplating his next destination. He'd promised to swing by the campaign office where Maggie was finishing up some final details for the latest mail campaign that was coming up, he also knew he should go home to find Michonne and let her know how the meeting went. He considered whether or not he should give her the full report, but it was a brief deliberation. Omission hadn't served him well in the past. He would tell her, but he might as well finish the story so he could give it to her all at once.

He turned the key, and drove the short distance to the campaign office, leaving his car on the street while he ran in to get Maggie. She was sitting in her usual spot, stamping envelopes when he swung the door open, startling her.

"Let's go," he said. "We've got something we need to go do."

Maggie peered up at him, as he remained hovering in the doorway, and made no move to follow. She glanced at the clock. "I promised Michonne you would be home by seven for dinner tonight. Where are we going?"

"This won't take long," he said, growing impatient. "Get your stuff. This is the only thing left on the agenda for today."

…

"You couldn't do this alone?" Maggie said, hustling to keep up as Rick power walked down the sidewalk. "I've got a lot of work to do."

"I shouldn't," he replied, with a roll of his shoulders, as if he were preparing for a physical altercation.

Maggie's concern only grew. "Why not?"

"Because I want a witness," he said, assuaging her with a charming smile tossed over his shoulder.

"That doesn't sound good."

"For Michonne," he explained. "I have a few things I need to say and I need you there to prove I'm keepin' a cool head, like she said."

"You'd better do it then," she muttered under her breath, as she caught up to him.

They skidded up to the glass fronted office, plastered with Gregory's campaign signs, and Rick swung the door open, allowing Maggie to step in ahead of him. Gregory wasn't known to assist in the menial tasks of his campaign, but this close to the election, Rick knew he would find his opponent on site, ordering people around at the very least. He was quickly proven correct when he spotted the grey haired man reclined in a stuffed, wingback chair that looked like it belonged in front of a fireplace at a country club, rather than a temporary war room. He had his legs crossed, his polished, wing tipped shoes contrasting oddly against the utilitarian tile flooring.

"Grimes," Gregory said, his eyes barely registering the befuddlement he was sure to have experienced at seeing the unannounced visitors. He pulled slowly to his feet, handing the folder of papers he was looking at over to a staff member.

"Gregory," Rick said with his jaw clenched in restraint. "Got a minute?"

Gregory glanced around the room, looking unsure about being alone with Rick, but he knew this was probably not going to be a conversation he wanted his young staff to overhear. "Of course. Come on," he said, gesturing for Maggie and Rick to follow him through the doorway to a kitchenette. He closed the door to the small room behind him, offering his guests a seat at the round lunch table in the center of the room, but they declined.

"What can I do for you, Richard?" Gregory said, donning a cartoonish smile.

"I saw your press conference the other day," Rick started, causing Maggie's eyes to bounce warily between the two men. She'd seen that look in Rick's eye before and she was crossing her fingers that she really would have something good to report regarding his behavior. "Merle Dixon…" Rick crossed his arms and sucked his teeth with an admonishing shake of his head. "You're bettin' big, hitchin' your wagon to a guy like that. Gives the impression you've got a lot to lose...I'm just sayin'"

"Yes, well, Mr. Dixon happens to be a reformed man, Rick. The justice system we both have such respect for, has served him well. Unfortunately, the treatment he received by the current department is a prime example of the kind of thing I've built my platform fighting against." Gregory took a few steps away from Rick's icy glare, settling against the small length of countertop on one side of the room. "His voice needs to be heard," he said with a shrug. "That is, if we're going to put an end to the current administration's way of doing things."

"Mmmhmm," Rick replied, casually. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his uniform and shrugged his shoulders. "I've known Mr. Dixon a long time, Gregory. Thing is, he's been reformed many times, in between his stays at the local jails. Now I get it, you're not a law man by trade, but let me share somethin' with you, from the perspective of someone in the business: sniffin' around a guy like Merle makes it real hard to keep your own hands clean. And whether I win or lose this seat, it's still my job to find out what guys like him are up to. If anything's not on the up and up...I'll find it."

"That sounds a bit like a threat, Rich," Gregory said, feigning an appropriate amount of shock. "I'd hate to think you haven't taken any of these lessons to heart after such a tumultuous past." Gregory shook his own head now, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"No threats, Gregory. I'm just layin' out the facts, just like you're tryin' to do. Let the people decide. For what it's worth, I think you've underestimated them. The people here already know me, they know my mistakes. From what I've seen, I think they'd rather have a guy who's lost his way a few times, than a man who's lost his conscience." Rick turned then, opening the door for a still silent Maggie, and tossing one more look over his shoulder at Gregory. "Merle Dixon," he said with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head again. "That's all you got, huh?"

They left Gregory in the empty room and Rick placed a hand on Maggie's elbow, ushering her quickly through the office and back out onto the street. The door had just closed behind them when Rick's cell phone rang, and he answered it while Maggie waited for an explanation of what had just happened.

"Daryl," Rick said as he connected the call. "Where'd you get with Merle?"

"It's Pete Anderson," he answered without preamble and with an audible sneer. "That's who hooked 'im up with Greg and that's who's _financin'_ the whole thing."

Daryl's inflection more than hinted at the questions that an arrangement like that drummed up. Just like Merle, Pete had to have an angle, something in it for him, besides just securing his role as the perpetual thorn in Rick's side. He wasn't stupid enough to consider himself so important that the man would empty his own wallet just to take him down. Rick tilted his head and squinted at the invisible specter of his enemy, squeezing the phone in his hand until his fingers turned white. "Put Shane on it," he finally said, willing away the red veil that was clouding his vision. He didn't want him or Daryl tied up in the investigation, despite the satisfaction that would come with putting his own hands on that evidence. If there was any legal ambiguity to the partnership, he knew Gregory and Pete would go down a lot harder if it was separate from his political rivalry.

"Ain't a lot of time between now and the election," Daryl said. "No tellin' if we find what we need before November."

"Then I'd better win," he said. "But either way, he loses."

"Damn straight," Daryl answered, hanging up with a grunt of approval.

"What was that about?" Maggie asked, when Rick had put the phone away and started walking again.

"This is gettin' personal," Rick said, his belly still burning with Zeke's indication. "I can't have that. Not right now."

"Ok," Maggie agreed. That was enough for her.

…

"Seven on the dot!" Michonne said, when Rick walked through the door and began unloading his pockets on the entryway table. She glided over to him, her grin beaming from her face like a lantern guiding him out of the fog of his day.

"I promised you," he said, taking her in his arms and accepting the slow release of tension in his shoulders as she kissed him.

"Everyone just got here." Michonne waited for him to shed his jacket and hang up his keys, before leading him by the hand into the living room. Enid and Shelly were sat on the couch, on either side of Carl, and Rick's heart nearly swelled out of his chest when he spotted the boy holding a tiny bundle of pink and white on his lap. He looked at Michonne again, his own grin widening to match hers, and took a couple more steps until he was standing before his son and soon to be daughter.

He stared in silent awe for a moment until Michonne nudged him, reminding him there were two other guests in attendance. "Enid," he said, "it's good to see you again." The girl nodded and he turned to her mother. "And Shelly, thank you for coming and bringing Judith. It means a lot."

"She should get used to it here," Shelly smiled. "It won't be long, now."

Rick nodded, his conversation with Zeke poking its head through door of his thoughts, before he slammed it shut again. "Can't come soon enough."

"We're going to eat soon," Michonne said, placing a hand on his back. "If you want to change."

Rick nodded, taking off for their bedroom with the sounds of his son and wife's happy laughter working to erase any thoughts of Gregory or Pete from his head. He swapped his uniform for a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, then quickly washed up for dinner in the master bath. Not wanting to miss a second more of the visit, he grabbed a hand towel from the rack, drying his hands as he walked back out to the living room.

He rejoined the group, and for the second time that night the sight he stumbled upon was almost too beautiful to admire in mixed company, where he hoped to maintain some dignity. Michonne was taking Judith from Carl, her face lighting up like the sun, and he paused for a moment to squint at her, as if she was. For Carl's sake, he choked back the embarrassing display that was threatening to appear on his face, and strode across the room to where she stood, cradling their future and every dream they'd ever made together in the crook of her arm. He couldn't help but touch her, despite the audience, brushing back a loc of hair from her face as she stared down at Judith, adoringly. He recognized the contented grin, it was the same one he had worn when he'd held her at Shelly's and seeing it on Michonne's face now, instead of the pain and fear he had seen that day, was more than he could ask for. He casually wiped at the corner of his eye, then pulled her toward him, resting his forehead against hers while he gazed at Judith alongside her.

They stood there, soaking in the moment for what seemed like an eternity, while Shelly kindly occupied the two teenagers who were obviously put out by the display. Michonne finally broke from him, whispering that they should probably feed their guests and he chuckled, kissing her cheek, and reluctantly pulled away.

"Who's hungry?" he asked, clearing his throat and turning back to the room. Michonne gestured to the dining room where the table was already set, and he led the way, showing Shelly and Enid to their seats.

"This looks wonderful," Shelly said, as Rick ferried platters of food that Michonne had prepared in from the kitchen.

"She feeds us well," he smiled, finally taking his own seat.

"Before Michonne lived here, I had to go to my grandmother's to get a meal," Carl snickered to Enid, who smiled at the joke.

"Carl," Rick warned, less amused than Enid. He shot his son a look to remind him who had the most to lose if the jokes started flying, and Carl substituted a mouthful of chicken for a retort.

When everyone had served themselves, Rick made a plate for himself and one for Michonne, noticing that she hadn't been able to put Judith down long enough to do it herself. "You gonna join us?" he chuckled, as she paced behind her chair, cooing and whispering to the baby in her arms.

"I'd be glad to take her while you eat," Shelly said, sharing a grin with Rick.

Michonne's head popped up, suddenly realizing dinner had started without her. "I don't mind," she said, taking in the table full of eyes on her.

"At least sit," Rick insisted, standing to pull out the chair for her. She took it, shifting Judith to one side so that she could pick up her fork and pretend she was interested in the meal.

"So, have you heard anything about a court date?" Shelly asked, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.

Michonne's ears perked up, knowing Rick had planned on speaking to Judge King about his help, and he smiled cautiously at her, not wanting to reveal the outcome of his meeting. He knew he was going to have to share the conversation with her later that night, but the dinner table wasn't the time. "Not yet," he said, turning back to Shelly, "but I'm sure we'll be on the list soon."

"We were hoping it would be before the election," Michonne chimed in, taking her first bite, while everyone else was scraping the last from their plate. "Or at the very least, before the holidays."

Rick pushed his plate aside and held his hands out, urging her to pass Judith to him so she could eat. She reluctantly gave in, easing the now sleeping infant into his arms and placing the cloth she had been keeping close over his shoulder. She took a moment to admire the view herself. She visited Judith on a regular basis now, but it occurred to her he'd been surviving on the pictures she'd brought him for the last couple weeks. Now he looked as relieved as she felt to be holding the little girl again.

"That will be one busy month," Shelly said with a smile, bringing Michonne's attention back to the matter at hand.

"We're used to it," she replied. "It's been a busy year." Michonne took another forkful, chewing through her grin. "I hope this was better warm," she deadpanned, to a chorus of laughter.

"You'll get used to that, too," Shelly said.

…

When dinner was over, Shelly and Michonne sat across from each other sipping mugs of coffee and chatting pleasantly about Carl and Enid's school years thus far, comparing notes on their respective teachers. The two teens had made a quick escape once they were excused from the table, and were sitting an awkward arm's length away from each other on the living room couch while they fooled around with Carl's video game collection. Rick had one ear on the conversation about their classes, enough to interject with a polite laugh or shared grievance if necessary, but the rest of his attention was consumed with Judith's tiny toes as they wiggled and stretched with spastic, jerky motions that amused him to no end. She had long ago given up on the bottle he was feeding her, choosing instead to hold a pacifier precariously between her gums, letting it pop out forcefully every so often, and causing Rick to make a grab for it to keep it off of the ground. It was a game he could continue as long as she was willing, he thought.

Her limbs stretched out more now, he noted, watching as her legs continued to dance. She was no longer curled in that fetal ball, though she still fit very easily into his large hands, and her eyes seemed as if they were taking more of him in too, whenever he caught her roaming gaze. In just a few short weeks she was already changing and growing before his eyes. Although, most of it was done away from his eyes, he realized. He lifted Judith off of his lap, settling her on his shoulder as he stood, so she could have a better view of her surroundings, and he felt a pang in his chest at the thought of having to miss more of these moments before they could finally bring her home.

"We should probably get going," Shelly said, from the table behind him. "It's getting late for her."

Rick turned and crossed the few steps it took to meet Shelly's outstretched arms, and begrudgingly peeled Judith away from his shoulder. He glanced at Michonne who looked equally as disappointed at their impending separation.

"I'm sorry," Shelly said, taking the baby and turning toward the infant carrier that was set on the chair in the living room. "I know how hard it is." She buckled the girl into her seat, setting it safely on the ground while Carl retrieved their coats from the hall closet.

Michonne nodded, finding her way to Rick's side, as Enid and Shelly prepared to go.

"It won't be long now, though," she said, lifting Judith's seat and starting to the door where Carl was waiting. "Thank you for dinner."

"Thank you, Shelly," Rick said. He wrapped his arm around Michonne's shoulders as they both took one last look at the baby. "Thank you for bein' so generous with your time."

"Are you kidding?" she laughed. "Michonne has been a huge help to me. Having two extra hands around with an infant is a gift. You'll see what I mean soon. Until then, come anytime."

Rick released Michonne fleetingly so that she could give both Shelly and Enid a parting hug, but as soon as Carl closed the door and retreated to his room, he pulled her in again. "She'll be here for good soon," he said, reading her thoughts as she nestled her face against his chest and let out a sigh.

"I know," she whispered. "Were you able to get in to see Ezekiel?"

It was Rick's turn to sigh. He dreaded ending the pleasant evening with this conversation, but he'd learned his lesson about deciding what Michonne would and wouldn't want to hear. He glanced at the stairway, satisfied that Carl was ditching them for the reminder of the evening, and walked with her to the couch. "I spoke with him today," he said, taking a heavy seat as she perched beside him. She didn't seem to catch on to his demeanor as her face was still smiling expectantly, and he closed his eyes for a moment as he prepared to ruin her night. "It didn't exactly go well, Michonne."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "He wouldn't help you?" Her face changed from eager to irritated as she surmised how the conversation unfolded. She didn't know Zeke, so he imagined her inclination was to assume his lack of cooperation was self serving.

"He suggested it may not be a good idea," Rick explained. He sat up and turned his body toward her, ready to accept her disappointment once she understood. "He said the talk right now, with Gregory toting Merle and his accusations around, it's not in my favor. Another judge might take that into consideration. Maybe it won't work out like we want. I'm sorry, Michonne. He just didn't think we should be trying to move things up right now. That maybe we should let the election play out first."

Michonne's face fell, first at his news and then at the obvious toll it had already taken on him. "The election is a month away," she said quietly.

"I know."

"You don't deserve this, Rick," she said, surprising him with her tone. He picked his head up and looked at her, watching as her eyes turned cold.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't, but it's something that happened, and I'm sorry the repercussions are yours now, too." Rick ran a hand through his hair, then let out a long breath. "Look, it just means we can't pull in any favors to get it done quick," he said. "But I'm not going to let it go any further than that, I promise you that."

"You've earned those favors," she said, her eyes still narrowed. "But you're right: this ends here. What do we do now?"

"I went to talk to Gregory today," he started, watching her closely. "I took Maggie with me, she'll confirm I just had a chat with him." Michonne nodded, showing no signs of being upset, so he continued. "Daryl spoke with Merle too...you're not gonna like this part."

"Tell me."

"It's like I thought; Merle isn't doing this out of some vendetta against me, he's gettin' paid."

"By who? And why?"

"Pete Anderson," he answered. "And I don't know why, but I'll find out." As bitter as the words tasted, he couldn't help a smirk at the anger that flashed across her face. Michonne hated the man almost as much as he did, and he was sure the name had earned a green light from her to handle him as he saw fit.

She was quiet for a few moments, then finally she placed a hand on his cheek and looked him square in the eye. "The best thing you can do is win this thing, prove to everyone who you are," she said, poking a finger at his chest. "Then we'll get our daughter. Nothing else matters."

"Nothing else matters," he agreed.

"Then we'll do what needs to be done to make that happen, and nothing more."

"Ok." Rick set an arm around her, pulling her against his chest as he settled into the couch cushions. "So does this mean you're back working on the campaign?"

"Looks like I'm going to have some time on my hands while we wait for the court," she said. "I guess I am."

 **XXXXXXXX**

 **A/N Thank you so much for your reveiws. I appreciate every single one!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N wow so many amazing in depth reviews on this story. I really love hearing your thoughts. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to comment. I think there are 3 more chapters to be had for this story! If I have it worked out right in my head. Thanks for reading, reviewing and for all of you who have favorited. I hope you guys were missing Rebeccah as much as I was. Here she is again!**

 **xxxxxxxx**

"How about a baby thermometer?" Rebeccah asked, as she folded and re-folded a green and pink quilt, attempting to drape it perfectly over the side of the crib like the picture Michonne had seen in a catalogue.

Michonne scribbled furiously in the notepad in her lap, scrolling through her phone with the other hand. She was reclined in the rocking chair, now in its proper place on the other side of the sunny window, making a final shopping list.

"The kind that you run over the forehead?" she asked, perusing the Google search she had just completed. "Or the old fashioned ones? Which is more accurate?"

"Oh, honey," Rebeccah laughed. "Take it from me, those new forehead ones are a gift you don't want to turn down. It will work just fine."

"Ok," she agreed, adding it to her virtual cart. "Thank you, Rebeccah. You don't know how much I appreciate this."

Rick was working what they hoped would be his last monthly weekend shift, and Rebeccah had offered to help Michonne put the finishing touches on the nursery. In reality she was serving the much greater purpose of easing the new mom jitters that had taken over Michonne's brain as her to do list slowly whittled down to odds and ends. Even getting back into campaign work hadn't been able to take her mind off of Judith's impending arrival. Excitement and activity over the two huge life changes that were on the horizon had her typically bomb proof nerves frayed. Not to mention the fact that Rick was working overtime handling the demands of his current position and the grueling public appearance schedule Maggie had him on in the final weeks. Any leads on any potential criminal activity by his opponent were worked on between Rick and Daryl and Shane in what little time was left over. She knew it was only temporary, but she missed having him to lean on, and Rebeccah was more than compensating.

"Michonne," Rebeccah said, finishing her crib design and crossing the room to stand in front of her daughter-in-law, with her hands on her hips. "You are as ready as you'll ever be. There is only so much preparation you can do for something like this, the rest is sink or swim, and darling, I've never met a better swimmer."

Michonne smiled, feeling her nerves calm a bit at Rebeccah's faith in her and the knowledge that the woman she had come to think of as her own mother would be close by as they took this all on. "I suppose you're right," she said. "It's just I wasn't expecting this much down time to let my thoughts run wild. I know I should savor it while I can, but I can't wait for the chaos."

"And you'll have it," Rebeccah chuckled. "My two boys were barely a year apart. Now that is chaos! But it's the best kind of crazy. There's nothing like it in the world."

"Do you think it will be the same for me?" Michonne asked, quietly. "I mean, I already love her more than I thought my heart was capable of, but the hard times, when it gets tough, sometimes I'm worried without that bond of having carried her…"

"No, sweetheart," Rebeccah said, stopping her from finishing her thought with a hand on her shoulder. "That's your baby, no matter how she came to you. You know that. Don't ever let anything make you feel any different."

Michonne nodded, placing her hand over Rebeccah's. "Okay," she said firmly. Even if she had to wait weeks to have her here, she knew Judith was theirs already. She was done questioning fate.

"Now tell me about this thing with the Dixon boy," Rebeccah said, getting back to the task at hand by grabbing a basket of books that needed a home. "How is Rick taking that? He's behaving?"

"He is," she said with a smile. She stood to follow Rebeccah to the bookcase, and took a seat on the floor while Rebeccah passed her books to organize on the shelves.

"Good. You know there's a reason you and Maggie are running the show over at the office. Sometimes men speak a different language and it's not always the correct tone. It's better they leave the diplomacy to the women." Rebeccah gave Michonne a conspiratorial grin with the next book. "Imagine if the whole world followed that suggestion!" she said.

Michonne couldn't help but agree. Rick had changed a lot since she'd known him, but his habit of acting rather than speaking, though well suited for the job he was hopefully about to take on, didn't get him very far in the political world. In fact, the thought began to occur to her that negotiation may have been completely overlooked in their current predicament. While the three men had their eyes on the prize of uncovering the whys and hows of this seedy alliance, they hadn't applied the same diligence to trying to put an end to it. Maybe they rightfully didn't trust themselves to accomplish that task unscathed, but this concerned her now, just as much as it did Rick, and maybe it was time to apply her own talents.

"Rebeccah," Michonne said suddenly, capturing the woman's attention away from an illustrated boardbook. "I have an errand I need to run. Do you think you could keep an eye on Carl for a little while?"

"Of course," Rebeccah said, happy to spend some time with her elusive grandson. "If I can pry him out of his room."

"Thank you. I won't be long."

…

Rick sat in the stiff, plastic chair, with his ankle crossed over his knee, flipping through the pages of an outdated Newsweek magazine. He glanced at his watch, noting he had just under half of his lunch break left before he had to get back on the road. He hadn't mentioned the pit stop to his partner or his wife, but he knew this conversation fell under the rules of play they had agreed on, and he was looking forward to filling them both in as soon as he was done with his shift.

"Dr. Anderson will see you now, Deputy," the grey haired receptionist said, batting her eyelashes in Rick's direction from beneath her red, horn rimmed glasses. The woman stood barely at Rick's chest, and he leaned forward to take her hand, thanking her with a squeeze of her fingers and a pat on her shoulder.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," Rick replied.

He'd charmed his way into Pete's afternoon schedule with his most convincing boyish grin and a little gushing over the pictures of grandchildren that lined her work area, and now he was about to go in for his emergency consult with the orthopaedic surgeon, or at least that's what it said on his new file.

He followed the woman through the doorway that lead to the exam rooms and just as they approached the door he was being led to, he heard Pete holler angrily from inside, as a nurse in purple scrubs backed slowly out of the room.

"Evelyn!" Pete yelled, storming around the corner with what was presumably Rick's file in his hand and coming face to face with the woman who had drawn his ire and his new patient.

The receptionist jumped, and Rick gave him a cocky grin, watching as Pete realized he was about to tip his hand and would be forced to play nice for a few more moments until he could get behind closed doors.

Pete eased a smile onto his pursed lips and scanned the file to explore how Rick had wormed his way in to see him. "I didn't realize you were still having trouble from that old gunshot, Grimes," Pete said with a sneer. "I guess it's good Evelyn could fit you in."

"Certainly is," Rick agreed. "This visit is long overdue." The woman looked back and forth between the two, before nodding warily and scurrying back to her desk.

Pete held a hand out, gesturing to the exam room and waving off the nurse who was still standing in the hallway waiting for further instruction. He let Rick pass him to enter the stark, clinical looking room.

"What do you want?" Pete said, as soon as he shut the door behind him.

"I just wanna talk," Rick said, setting his hands on his hips. He took a few steps around the room, pretending to study the various posters and anatomical diagrams hanging on the wall.

"Yeah, well, I hope you're planning on paying for this visit, Rick," Pete said. "Cause I'll be sending you the bill for wasting my time. Saturdays are emergency hours, it won't be cheap."

"Of course," Rick said, nodding his head and bringing his gaze back to the doctor. "And thanks for remindin' me. There was something specific I wanted to discuss and it was right along those lines...people gettin' paid."

Pete's eyes narrowed, irritated that he walked into such an easy set up.

Rick paused his tour of the tiny room to squint at the man, casually setting his foot on the small plastic chair beside the door and leaning his elbow on his knee. "See that part was pretty easy to figure out," he started, gesturing with an open palm. "But I suppose I can't blame the two of you for puttin' all your eggs in Merle's basket. If you can't trust a small time drug dealer, who can you trust? Am I right?" He laughed at his own joke, while Pete continued to scowl. "What I can't figure out is the why. What's this race got to do with you?"

"I'm a concerned citizen." Pete shrugged, matching Rick's stare. "One with the means to put my money where my mouth is."

"It's strange though," Rick said, unfazed, "the general well bein' of the community didn't really seem to be one of your interests last time we worked together. In fact you said as much. You were just puttin' in your time with the task force, right? Didn't care one way or another. Your new concern is just interesting is all."

"It's only interesting to you because I'm supporting your opponent. I'm sorry if that doesn't sit well with you, Rick, but not everyone sees you as some Godsend to this place."

"And not everyone sees you as the good doctor. We both know you've got some skeletons."

"Look Grimes," Pete said, his tone reflecting his impatience. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: you're fucking crazy. After Gregory gets elected, and becomes your boss, you won't be investigating anything. You'll be lucky if you still have a job."

Rick tipped his head to the side, regarding the man who was currently throwing a wrench in his plans and the smug smile he was wearing while doing it. Pete had more than a few inches on him, his towering frame giving off an air of intimidation that another man might be concerned with, but Pete was right, when it came to his family, Rick was a little crazy.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" he growled, as he kicked the chair he had been resting his booted foot on, knocking it over with a loud clatter of metal against tile. He took a menacing step toward Pete, and just as he'd expected, the man took his own step backwards, stumbling into the exam table as he removed himself from Rick's reach.

The doctor glanced at the door, the turning wheels in his head clearly visible as he weighed his options. He was taking a chance, but he had a hunch Pete would allow the confrontation to continue, rather than have this visit become public knowledge. If there was one thing they'd been able to figure out from their detective work, it was that whatever Pete was getting out of his deal with Gregory was something he didn't want eyes on. The two were keeping their alliance quiet. According to Merle, Pete had paid in cash for him to be their poster boy, and Pete's name didn't appear on any of the official lists involving Gregory's campaign. From what he could see, he hadn't even shown his face at any of the public events Rick's opponent had held, save for his impromptu campaigning at the Labor Day Parade, as Maggie had noted. Dale's comment about a few faces being missing from the landscape was starting to make sense, and using Merle certainly constituted as hitting him where he was weak, like the man had warned. Now Rick was giving him the perfect chance to double down on Gregory's calls against his behavior, but still Pete didn't threaten him back, or rush out the door.

"I'm gonna find out what's going on, Pete," Rick said, looming in front of him as the man sputtered incoherently. "And I get the feeling that's not going to turn out well for you."

Pete ran his hands nervously down the front of his lab coat, straightening his posture to try to regain some dignity after cowering so easily. "I think this conversation is over," he said, taking one more step back. "I have patients to see."

Rick softened his posture, leaning back on his heels with a nod. "Yeah, I agree. We're done here. Remember what I said, Pete, this thing is gonna break open, and I'll be standing there waiting to see your face when you realize you're not as smart as you think you are."

"We'll see, Grimes," Pete said, standing flat against the wall as Rick walked passed him to leave. "Hey, have a shitty day."

"Same to you, Pete."

…

Daryl's brother's auto body shop was dingier than Michonne imagined, if that was even possible. As soon as she pulled into the parking lot a slight chill went down her spine at the thought of going missing in this place, on a backcountry road where no one would ever find her. She didn't think Merle was dangerous, or at least he wouldn't be to her, but still, the resemblance to a true crime documentary location wasn't lost on her.

She got out of her car, briefly considering Rick's reaction if he were to find out she was here, but this had to be done, her way. She crossed the dusty, dirt driveway, heading to the office attached to the two bay garage, and put a hand up to her eyes as she peered through the thick layer of grime covering the window. There was a sign hanging on the glass that gave the impression that the shop was open for business, so she took a deep breath and pulled the door open. The room smelled like motor oil, which was to be expected, but she was also instantly hit with the undeniable aroma of marijuana as soon as she stepped inside. With one last glance at her car and a quick calculation of the time needed to sprint back to it if necessary, she stepped to the counter and pressed a finger to the little, silver bell sitting amongst carelessly strewn paperwork and magazines.

It didn't take Merle more than a moment to appear from the back room, a filthy red rag in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. He didn't greet her right away, instead leaning casually against the door frame and overtly sizing her up. He scoured the length of her with his eyes, causing her to instinctively set her hands on her hips to give the appearance of confidence. When his gaze finally landed on her face, he squinted for a moment before a slimy, menacing smile spread across his scar littered face.

"The lovely Mrs. Grimes, right?" he asked with a healthy dose of disdain.

She nodded, then decided first names would better suit her mission. "Michonne."

Merle nodded back in feigned deference. "Gotta say I'm a little surprised. You sure you want to chance bein' seen 'round me, Michonne? Your husband's campaign is already on thin ice."

Michonne scoffed, her nerves starting to settle. "Hardly," she said.

Her tone seemed to offend him and his smile faded into something more bitter. "Officer Friendly know you're here?" he asked, running his tongue on his teeth and glancing at the concrete floor beneath his feet.

"No," she answered, somewhat unsure if she should admit it. "What I need to say is between you and me."

Merle laughed heartily, his earlier disposition returning. "What could possibly be between you and me, darlin'?"

She chanced a step closer, resting her hand on the counter that separated them, and straightened her shoulders. "What you're doing?" she started, "with Gregory? It's not just politics, or a job that you're getting paid to screw with, it's our lives."

"You and Rick?" Merle laughed, again. "Honey, any trouble bein' caused in your life is cause you married a damn pig, and an angry one at that." He snorted loudly, doing his best impression of the barn yard animal, and Michonne scowled at him. "Gregory ain't sayin' nothin' 'bout your old man that ain't true."

"You know damn well what went down that day, Merle," Michonne said. "Look, there's bad blood between you two, I get it, but are you really going to claim you're innocent enough to justify this type of retaliation? You were waving a knife around like a lunatic!"

Merle sneered at her, standing up straight and mimicking her challenging posture. "Bad blood," he muttered under his breath. "You people look at me like I'm the devil, for what? Exercising a little poor judgement? Using my fists to make a point? Rick goes ahead and does the same damn thing and he's just misunderstood."

"It's hardly the same."

"Keep tellin' yourself that, sweetheart. Rick's had a rough go, right? Hell, my whole life's been a hard time. I done some stuff I ain't proud of, stuff I have to live with. My brother and Grimes act like blood. They think I'm the villain, the perpetual screw up, but we ain't any different, me and them. We're all just...dealing. "

Michonne started to feel her composure rattle, her blood pressure spiking like it did any time she was forced to defend the greatest man she'd ever known against his critics, and trying to explain the type of man Rick Grimes was to a degenerate like Merle Dixon seemed futile. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing back a softer tone. Merle was rattled too, he wouldn't be engaging her like this if he wasn't and she knew rattling might be the only way to get through to a guy like that. "You know, Merle," she said, gently. "You're right. You didn't ask for the hand you were dealt any more than Rick did, and maybe you're not that different after all, cause you're still dwelling on your choices too, letting them weigh on you, just like him. A bad man? Someone truly evil? They're light as a feather."

Merle took his bottom lip between his teeth, returning to his previous inspection of her face. She watched him trying to make sense of what exactly it was she was asking of him, of what she thought he might have to offer. It seemed to her, it might be the first time anyone had ever thought he had anything to offer at all.

"So what's so important?" he asked.

"What?"

"If it ain't the job, what's this whole thing interfering with? I know it ain't the thing with Lori wanting Carl no more."

Michonne furrowed her brow, not quite understanding how he could possibly know that.

"Grimes and I grew up together," he explained. "Despite our _diverging paths_ , we know a lot of the same people. It ain't a big town."

"It's not Carl," she said, again pausing to discern whether it was wise to be sharing anything with this man. She decided her visit there had already created the precarious position though, and she didn't have much to lose by supplying him with the details. "We're trying to adopt a baby and it has to be decided by the court. These ads, this story you're bringing up, it's bad timing."

Merle nodded, crossing his arms across his chest and clicking his tongue. "It's already out there," he said, almost to himself.

"It is. But Gregory wasn't even around back then. Your voice is the one that matters."

"Well ain't that somethin'" he laughed again.

"Maybe this is your shot," she said. "A new beginning. Staying on the outside is a choice, Merle."

Merle averted his gaze, keeping it firmly on the ground in front of him as he allowed her words to sink in. "You'd better go, sweet cheeks," he said finally, his voice lacking conviction. "I know Grimes, he finds out you're here, you'll have a whole new incident on the news."

"You're probably right," she said, turning to leave. "Just think about it."

Merle watched her walk out the door and across the parking lot, his first interaction with the woman that Rick Grimes had married leaving him feeling a bizarre sort of happiness for his old rival. He and Rick would never be friends, but she was right, they had more in common than either of them would ever admit. When it came down to it, he knew men like Gregory and Pete; they might be willing to make a deal with him now, but his usefulness to them would run out and they'd pair with someone else, someone that might not have the same interests. Maybe his first foray into politics had taught him something already: the devil you know is better than the one you don't. He pulled his cellphone out of the back of his grease stained coveralls and dialed the number he was told to forget.

"Tell Anderson I'm out," he said, when Gregory answered the phone angrily. "And if he wants to talk to Gareth's guys again, he can contact them himself."

…

Michonne was admiring the work that Rebeccah and she had put in on the nursery when she heard Rick's boots on the stairs. She smiled at the sound, having expected him to be much later.

"You were busy," he said as he made his way into the room to greet her. It was an understatement considering all she had accomplished that day, but he didn't know that yet.

"I was." She turned to meet him in the doorway, his lips finding hers immediately. "Your mom was here," she said when she broke their kiss. "She helped."

"And Carl?"

"He helped when I asked."

Rick chuckled, having guessed as much. "He needs a job." He pushed past her, grabbing her hand and leading her over to the rocking chair. Taking a seat, he pulled her onto his knee and she leaned against him, relishing in his company.

"He's a kid," she said. "Decorating the nursery isn't in his wheelhouse."

"This must have taken all day," he said, scanning all of the little details that had been added since he last saw the room; tiny dresses hanging in the closet on tiny hangers, floating shelves meticulously designed with art and knick knacks, she'd even sorted all of the diapers by size and placed them in woven baskets beneath the changing table.

"Actually," she said, turning to look at him. "I had time to run an errand." She might as well get it out, she thought. Let him be upset and then they could go on with their evening.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, stroking her arm absently.

"I went to see Merle."

Rick froze, unsure if he had heard her correctly. "What?" he asked. "Merle Dixon?"

"Rick, listen, what he's doing, what they all are doing...it affects me too, and it's not that I don't trust you to handle it, but you shouldn't have to handle it on your own."

"Michonne…"

"It went fine," she said, smoothing the fabric of his shirt with her palm "We had a conversation and I think maybe he heard what I had to say."

"Merle is dangerous, Michonne. You don't have conversations with men like that."

"Isn't that exactly what they're saying about you? That you're dangerous."

Rick huffed out a breath, removing his hand from her arm and running it over his face. For the second time that day he was starting to feel like the enraged lunatic Pete wanted people to believe he was. The thought of Michonne going somewhere to meet with Merle by herself, without him knowing where she was, had his fists clenched and his jaw set to stone. "Michonne, please," he said through gritted teeth. "Merle Dixon is a criminal. He can not be trusted. Please tell me you will not do that again."

Michonne's shoulders softened when she saw the genuine concern on his face. She'd meant to take some of the burden away, but she could see that she'd given him another thing to worry about, even if she was more than capable of handling herself. "OK," she agreed, reaching for his hand. "I said what I needed to say. I won't do it again."

Rick lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you," he whispered. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him what he was doing was more than just politics. It was our lives. I think he understood that, Rick. You said yourself it wasn't personal. I gave him a reason to make a better choice, and maybe it will work or maybe he'll continue to be Merle, but I had to try."

Rick nodded, still unhappy with this news, but unable to fault her reasoning. It hadn't even occurred to him to speak to Merle directly, appeal to some deeply buried conscience he may have hidden away. She had thought of it, though, and that's why they were such a good team. In that same vein he figured he should fill her in on his progress as well. "Since we're confessin'" he joked, "I should tell you I spoke to Pete today."

Michonne shifted on his lap, her eyebrows raised at the information. "How did you get him to talk to you?" she asked.

"I lied a little," he smirked. She narrowed her eyes at him half heartedly, since she had just been on the flip side of the admissions. "I just had a conversation, too."

"With your words I hope," she said, eyeing him for any signs of a different type of discussion.

"Yes, but he wouldn't have allowed it if he didn't have something to hide. I told him I'd find out what it was, and he didn't deny it; didn't even try to tell me I was wrong. Instead he let me threaten him, then walk right out the door."

Michonne contemplated Rick's account; it seemed they'd both chosen the correct tactic for their target. Unlike the chance she took with Merle, she knew Rick was right to assume Pete wasn't the discussion type. "So now what?" she asked. "He knows you're on to him. Think he'll pull back?"

"We'll find out soon enough. But I know one thing, he's not very good at this."

Michonne's pensive expression morphed into a pleased grin. "But you're pretty good at this," she purred.

"I do alright." Rick matched her grin, pulling her flush against his chest. "We do alright."

"We do."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but here is chapter 12. It's election day!!

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"Today's the day," Michonne said from her spot beneath the covers. She heard Rick rise awhile earlier, leaving their bed and taking his body heat with him as she sprawled into his vacated spot. Now she watched through hooded eyes as he came back from the bathroom, patting his newly shaven face with a towel, another one wrapped around his waist.

"It is," he replied.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her smile indicating her confidence in the outcome of the day.

Rick tossed the hand towel over his bare shoulder, taking a seat on the bed, and scratched the back of his head as he considered his answer. "I hope so," he settled on. "This job is what I've been workin' toward my whole career, but I've been reminded the last few weeks that I haven't always made the right calls." Michonne sat up, pulling the sheet up with her to cover her naked chest, and he turned his body toward her, looking her in the eye. "Do you think I can do this, Michonne? That I'm the right man for this job?"

"Absolutely," she said, as if she were declaring an indisputable doctrine. "We've all made mistakes, Rick, but you keep going. You always have, and today's the day you take what you've earned."

Rick's eyes turned resolute, her affirmation setting his heart right as he awaited the final culmination of year's worth of work, whatever that may be. He leaned in to kiss her, once on the lips, then moving downward. "I love you," he whispered against her skin, his warm breath drawing tiny pimples from her flesh.

She stroked the back of his head softly, wanting to keep his easily provoked curls looking presentable. "We've got an early start," she said, as he pushed away the blanket that kept her covered. He drew a line with his tongue down to her nipple, rolling it between his tongue and his teeth, before looking up at her with a grin.

"We've got time." He shifted his weight to his arms, placing them on either side of her, and pushed her backwards onto the bed with his chest. "Once more for good luck," he chuckled.

"You've got a long day ahead," she said with a mischievous smile. "You think you can handle another round, Sheriff?"

"Don't jinx me. You can call me Sheriff tonight."

"You're awfully superstitious today."

"I've had a run of good luck lately," he said, taking a moment to appreciate her form, splayed out before him. "I'm not ready for it to end."

He adjusted his position, one of his hands disappearing beneath the covers as he prepared to put an end to any doubts about his stamina. He wasn't being indulgent, he needed this, needed her. He never felt as confident or as capable as when he was connected to her, and before she could feign another protest he was buried inside her, leaving only a quiet moan to follow her playful snark. "I can handle it," he said to her parted lips and rolled back eyes.

"Rick," she barely eked out, her breath stolen by his slow strokes. He was being gentle with her now, after wearing her out the night before. His nerves were showing in his insatiable appetite, and though she could have used a little more sleep the night before a twelve hour day of working the polls, she could never turn him down when he sought her. She abandoned her previous inclination to keep his appearance preserved and gripped his hair tightly in her fist, letting him know she could take it if he needed to blow off some steam. He continued to go slow, though, taking his time as he rocked into her, languidly meandering the expanse of her neck with his lips. She wrapped a leg around his waist, guiding his movements with the tightening and releasing of her calf muscle and subsequent audible expressions of her appreciation. She had completely resigned to ignoring the clock in favor of her own gratification when she thought she heard footsteps in the hallway leading to their room.

"Dad?" they heard Carl call suddenly, his face obviously mere inches from their door.

Michonne froze, as Rick's face washed with irritation. He placed a finger over her lips, warning her with his eyes when she began to giggle. "Quiet," he whispered. "He'll think we're still asleep."

"Dad!" Carl yelled with more fervor, rapping his knuckles on the wooden barrier that separated them. "Your cell phone is ringing."

Michonne tried to slip away from Rick, feeling around the bed for her shirt, but he captured her hands, holding her wrists above her head. "Just leave it, Carl," he yelled. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"What about breakfast?"

Rick dropped his head dejectedly onto Michonne's chest with a sigh and she wiggled her arms free of his loosened grasp. "I'll make you breakfast," she yelled through the door. "Just give me a minute."

"No," Rick pleaded, as she separated from him. "Michonne…"

She kissed him on the forehead before sliding out from under him, and he fell onto the mattress with a groan. "Sorry, baby. We'll finish this later." She grabbed her robe from the back of the chair beside their window, slapping his naked ass with a chuckle as he lay motionless, and she brushed past him to make herself presentable. "Get dressed."

"I think I need another shower," he muttered into the pillow. "A cold one."

Michonne slipped out of the door to greet Carl in the hallway. "Hey, kid," she said with a soft jab to his arm. "What do you want to eat?"

He followed her lead into the kitchen and took a seat at the island while she perused the contents of the fridge. "Whatever."

"You could have made yourself whatever," she joked, pulling out a carton of eggs and what she deemed 'the boys milk', the non organic, full dairy kind.

"That looks good," he shrugged. "Dad's cell phone has been ringing for the past hour."

Michonne set the breakfast items on the counter and frowned, crossing to where Rick had tossed his jacket the night before. "It's probably just well-wishers for election day," she said, fishing his phone out of the pocket. She typed in his pass code and a list of missed calls appeared, one from Maggie, one from Rebeccah and one from a number she didn't recognize. She set it aside, leaving it for Rick to handle when he finally emerged.

He did appear a few moments later, when she had gotten back to her cooking, and she chuckled when she saw his hair was wet again, indicating he had actually gotten back in the shower. "Feel better?" she snickered, as he came up behind her to see what she was making.

"Looks like I'm out of debt at least."

"You missed some calls," she said, gesturing to where she had dropped his cellphone.

Rick retrieved it, pushing a few buttons and holding it up to his ear. She watched as he quickly cut off the first two voicemails with the delete button, then listened intently to the third. He wandered over to the television as the message played, powering it on and changing to the local news station. It was a commercial, so he ended the call and pulled up the station's website on his phone. "Huh," he muttered as he read.

"What is it?" She stopped her meal prep again, to Carl's chagrin, and came to stand in front of Rick.

"Merle," he said, his eyes still on the screen. "Looks like he pulled off of Gregory's campaign last night...publicly."

"How publicly?"

"Called the local news, gave a statement." He looked up then, squinting at Michonne. "The voicemail was from Dale Horvath, though."

Michonne quirked an eyebrow at him.

"He said he had a theory. This thing with Merle got him speculatin' about somethin' he thinks we should look into."

"You should call Shane," she said. "You're not a detective today."

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly, taking off into the other room to dial his friend's number. "I'll hand it off."

It was quarter past eight when Michonne and Rick arrived at the campaign office, after dropping Carl off at school. They were fifteen minutes later than they had promised, but Maggie greeted them cheerfully, regardless.

"Sorry," Michonne said, crossing the room to embrace their friend at her desk.

"Big day!" Maggie drawled, waving off the apology as she stood to hug Rick as well. She had her short hair pulled halfway up and a twenty ounce coffee in her hand. Her usual collection of heels and cowboy boots had been passed over for a pair of sneakers and her small frame almost disappeared under an oversized sweatshirt with Glenn's Alma Mata imprinted on it. "I've got three teams in town right now stationed at the polling places and the town square. Loaded 'em up with signs and coffee and they're ready to go." She handed them each a sheet of paper with a volunteer schedule printed out. "Shift change is at one. Michonne, I'll need you back here to help with that."

Michonne nodded, reaching for Rick's hand as Maggie turned her sights on him. "Your first order of business is to go cast your vote," she said. "I called my friend at the news station and asked him to be on hand to make sure he got a picture. I'd like you to be as visible as possible today, and keep that million dollar smile plastered on your face," she joked, tapping her fingers on his cheek. "I want 'em to see this Rick Grimes, not the one Gregory and Merle are talking about."

"Speaking of that," Michonne interjected. "I assume you heard the news."

"I did!" she exclaimed. "Who woulda guessed Merle had a conscience?"

"Michonne guessed," Rick said, causing Maggie to look back and forth between them questioningly before jumping to the next point on her list.

"Okay," she said. "You two go vote, then make it back here and I'll put you to work."

"So, how many you think in, say...a month's time?" Shane asked, his elbow resting casually on the formica countertop at the back of the empty pharmacy. After Rick had filled him in on Dale's request to meet, he'd picked up Daryl and driven there to follow up on what Dale had claimed was an interesting coincidence. Now they were huddled together, flipping through a printed out list of prescriptions that the man had provided, all of which bore the same surgeon's name.

"Well, it's enough to draw attention!" Dale exclaimed. "Look, let's just say there's either a huge increase in broken bones and torn rotator cuffs in town, or something's not right. I've been in this line of business a long time, and lived in this town a lot longer. I know the trends, and Anderson's field just doesn't do this volume of business in a population like this. Besides, we're taught to look for prescription fraud these days. I can't imagine Pete isn't aware of that. He must have thought he was being more careful than he was."

"So what tipped you off all of a sudden?" Daryl was standing with his arms folded across his chest, reading over Shane's shoulder. "Seems like these go back awhile."

"I woke up this morning," Dale explained, "turned on the news, and there's your brother telling the story about how he's decided to retract his statement about Rick and end his affiliation with Gregory, and I thought: what's it take for a guy like that...no offense…" Daryl shrugged off the inference and nodded for him to continue. "What's it take for a guy like that to go out of his way to endorse a candidate in a local election in the first place?"

"Money," Daryl said. "We already figured that part out."

"Ok, then," Dale said, "a gig's a gig even for your brother, so why all of a sudden do a 360?"

"What're you gettin' at, man?" Shane asked, impatiently.

Daryl, however, watched the man quietly as he worked it out in his head. Dale was about to figure out who was behind Merle and Gregory's friendship. Pete's payment to Merle was already part of their working knowledge on the case, but maybe, once he knew the who, Dale could give them the why.

"I'm saying we all know what Merle's main occupation is and it isn't muffler work. And a guy like Gregory doesn't get involved with a guy like Merle casually, especially fresh off a stint in prison." Dale leaned forward, his hands resting on the opposite side of the counter from where Shane was scowling at him, and continued walking them through his thought process. "Now, I also started noticing a pattern," he said. "Pete is quiet, doesn't say a word about Grimes when it comes up, and you can bet the race came up more than once at our Chamber meetings. These are political guys, guys with big opinions and big wallets, but while everyone else is throwing around the numbers of their latest campaign contributions, Pete's staying rather conspicuously out of the fray. Never says a word, and he's been pretty vocal about Rick before. It was just odd to say the least. Anyway, Gregory's tied to Merle, Merle's tied to drugs and I've got a whole lotta drugs being prescribed by the local surgeon who's suddenly afraid to have an opinion, or so much as show his face at any of these campaign events."

Shane and Daryl shared a glance. It seemed Dale and they had been working two sides of the same problem and had just met in the middle.

"So you think the three of 'em are involved here? Gregory too?" Shane asked, trying to work out a motive for the menage a trois.

"I think there's a connection there, yes." Dale smiled, satisfied with his conclusion.

"So what about the guys filling the scripts?" Daryl asked, realizing they were still missing a link in the chain. "These people you know?"

"Some," Dale answered, "but not most."

"Give us some names," Shane said. "We'll start running 'em."

"I can't do that, gentlemen. That's private medical information. I can't hand it out without seeing a warrant."

"Well then, how the hell you expect us to follow up on this?" Daryl asked, sensing the dam had just been erected and the flow of information was about to stop short.

"Get your warrant," Dale said. "It will be here waiting."

Just as Dale was packing the inventory sheet back into a folder for safe keeping, the bell on the front door rang and two grey haired women wandered into the pharmacy, stealing his attention away. The two deputies nodded a goodbye before showing themselves out with only Dale's story to take along with them.

"Pete and Merle, man. That's an odd couple if I ever seen one," Shane said, when they pushed back out onto the street, away from Dale and his customers.

"Doc's got a side business going, for sure," Daryl said. "But Merle don't play with pharmaceuticals, it's not his style. He's a street drugs guy."

"You think it's a coincidence? We already know they know each other if Pete's paying him."

"I'm just sayin' we're missing something here."

"We already cleaned up the street business," Shane said, scratching the back of his head as they started back to the cruiser. "Put 'em all in jail a few years ago," "Maybe Merle's adapting to the changing climate."

"So Anderson's dealing 'scripts and Merle's organizing them being filled and peddled?" Daryl shook his head. "I'm tellin' ya man, it's too much work. Merle sells weed, occasionally he plays around with hallucinogens, some PCP, he's no bigger than some of the kid's at the local high school. He was running a racket like this, he'd be living a lot better."

"Alright, I'll give you that."

"'Sides, we still ain't figured out where Gregory fits in. We need to know if Pete and Merle are in on this together or Pete's just got him on the line for the campaign. Either way, can't have been too good for their friendship for Merle to bail on Election Day."

Shane shrugged, opening the door to the car and sliding behind the wheel. "Think Merle will give up any more, now that he's burned that bridge?"

"One way to find out," Daryl said, reaching for a pack of cigarettes and tapping them on his palm.

"Rick let you smoke in the car?" Shane asked, eyeing his temporary partner skeptically.

"Nah, but this is your car."

Shane shook his head and turned the key. "Let's go see your brother."

"There's the camera guy Maggie knows," Michonne whispered as they got out of Rick's car and met around the back. She reached for his hand, straightening his collar with the other. The parking lot at the local V.F.W. post was full of early morning commuters trying to get their ballot cast on the way to work, and the spot they chose gave them a bit of a long trek to the door, in the chilly November air.

Rick nodded, resigned to a day of forced showmanship. Gregory was probably in his element, he thought, arriving at his own polling place like he was walking the red carpet. Rick wasn't a limelight guy; he wanted to get this thing done and start making a difference for the community, but as Maggie and Michonne reminded him on a daily basis, this was what was going to afford him that opportunity.

They approached the front door and were greeted by a handful of supporters. Some were there working for candidates in other local races, but they took a moment to shake his hand and extend their well wishes as he passed. Michonne was beaming at him when he glanced in her direction. She was proud and that was enough to keep him trudging through the day.

Maggie's friend greeted them from across the room, offering his hand once they had made their way through the lobby of the building to where the various news media were stationed. "Rick, good to see you," the man said, shaking his hand and then Michonne's. "You have a lot of support out here today."

"Thanks, Cal," Rick replied, nodding at the other reporters. "Good to see you, too."

"Maggie told me you'd be here around this time. Gotta get a picture of all the candidates voting for the afternoon news. May I?"

Rick turned to Michonne offering a forced smile that made her laugh and she joined him as the photogenic counterweight to his stiff pose, reflective of his rank. The cameras flashed in quick succession, the other reporters wanting their own shot and happy to find the opportunity presenting itself.

"This is good," Cal said, checking the tiny screen on his camera to assess his work. "Hey, heard Greg was headed over to the local diner to shake some hands. Any chance of an impromptu run in? Would make a great headline shot." Cal smiled an eagerly opportunistic grin aimed mostly at Michonne, as Maggie had clued him in on who was really in charge.

Unfortunately for Cal, Michonne knew the potential fireworks between the two rivals far outweighed the political optics of the meeting, and she just shook her head sympathetically. "I think we're headed to the other side of town," she said, graciously.

"Alright," the young reporter shrugged. "Good luck in there." He nodded over his shoulder through the double doors at the bank of voting booths, all of them full and with a growing line at the check in.

"Thanks," Rick said, his hand finding the small fo Michonne's back as he led her away from the group. He was already eager to get behind the curtain for the moment of solitude it would afford him to collect some of his thoughts. Despite his own chock full schedule, the mention of his opponent's whereabouts had his mind wandering back to the phone call he had received from Dale. It was interesting and timely, he thought, and he couldn't help that he was itching to get his hands on more details. More than that, the fact that his comrades were out there working a case while he was smiling for photo ops was exactly the part of this that he hated. "Let's get this done," he whispered to her as they walked to the table set up at the entrance. "I wanna check in with Shane."

Shane glanced down at his cell phone in the center console, alerting him to yet another call from Rick, as he pulled into the lot of Merle's shop. His friend was as impatient as it gets, he thought. He felt for Rick, knowing it was killing him to be relegated to the behind the scenes work on this case, but neither of them had the time to keep in constant contact today. He ignored the call as they exited the cruiser, and silenced his phone before shoving it in his pocket for the good of both of them.

"Hey, Merle!" Daryl shouted, as the two deputies entered the empty shop. They scanned the waiting room and front desk with no signs of Daryl's brother. "He's probably out back," Daryl said, leading the way.

They pushed through the door leading to the garage bay and found Merle with his head buried in an engine, his loud music muffling their footsteps. "Hey!" Daryl said again, and Merle popped up from his task like a prairie dog, looking left then right.

He stood slowly when he spotted their uniforms, taking a good look behind them and then at all of the other entrances before he acknowledged his brother. "Sure am getting a lot of visitors around here lately," Merle said, wiping his hands off on his coveralls and coming around to where they stood.

"Be pretty lonely if you didn't," Shane smirked. "Don't see any customers."

"I'm the loner type, Walsh. You know that. Course, I have to say, I preferred Grimes' little woman to your two ugly mugs."

Shane and Daryl shared a glance, each pondering why Michonne would have been here, and then whether or not Rick knew about it.

"Aw, she didn't tell you we're friends now?" Merle laughed. "I'm hurt." He leaned against the side of the car he was just working on and crossed his arms. "What do you two want?"

"Got some more questions for you 'bout your arrangement with Pete Anderson."

"I already told you about that, little brother. Man offered me some cash to talk about my personal experiences with the screws loose in Grimes' head. Just a job, no harm meant."

"So why'd you quit that job this morning?" Shane asked. "Odd timing."

"As you can see, I have a business to run, boys." Merle gestured with an open palm to the deserted shop. "Turns out I didn't have time for moonlighting."

"Bull shit," Daryl said, irritated at the time they were wasting. "You ain't turning down cash, Merle. And you got all the time in the world."

"Look politics ain't my thing," Merle said, defensiveness starting to creep into his voice. "I got bored real quick. Bunch a pompous assholes going on about who's the biggest asshole. Rick, Gregory, what do I care? It wasn't worth it."

"But Anderson cared, right? That's why he paid you?" Shane took a step closer and set his hands on his gun belt as he inspected Merle's visage. "We got reason to believe he's making his way into your territory. Maybe he's cuttin' in on your other business, that's why you didn't want to help him out anymore?"

"Why you guys always worried about my financial interests?" Merle scoffed. "You think Anderson's crossed a line, why don't you go talk to him?"

"Cause we think you're working with him. Or were. Maybe the deal went south?"

Merle laughed again, meandering back to the open hood of the car, and retrieving a wrench. He set about tinkering with the engine block while Shane and Daryl continued to stare at him.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, boys. As usual. Anderson paid me for one job, that's the extent of my dealings with him...but I ain't the only guy in town. You know that too. You locked me up and shit went down just like I told you it was gonna. Ya'll think you cleaned up your mess, but all a boat needs is one little hole, made by one little prick, and it's taking on water again."

"Same water as before?" Daryl asked, deciding to play along with the metaphorical gibberish if it made Merle feel important enough to give them a few more details.

"Same source."

"And that's who Anderson is teaming up with? You hook 'em up?"

"I don't know what Anderson is doing," Merle lied. "But whatever it is, he ain't doing it with me. He asked me to be his go between, but I told him I wasn't interested in doing his dirty work. And seems to me he didn't need no introductions; he had his own connections. Y'all made Anderson a part of your little task force years ago. Gave him a line to the inside intel. You wanna see how he got hooked up, start there." Merle popped his head up again with a self-satisfied grin. "Hey, now," he said, "maybe I should come get a job with ya'll for my next venture."

"Don't count on it," Shane said, turning to Daryl. "Still don't give us Gregory's part in all this; why Pete cares so much about who wins this race."

"Seems like a safer bet to have your buddy in charge of you glorified security guards, than Grimes," Merle offered from inside the hood of the car. "You know, if Anderson's got something going on he don't want looked into."

"Who says Pete and Gregory are buddies?" Daryl said. "The guy don't seem to know nobody in this town, besides his campaign staff."

"I don't know, bro," Merle said. "I heard 'em talking when they were giving me my script for my public appearances. Sounded like those two clowns came from the same circus once upon a time."

Shane furrowed his brow, intrigued by this new piece of information, and he gestured to Daryl to wrap up the conversation.

"A'ight, Merle," Daryl said. "We'll be back if any of this don't check out. I hope for your sake you ain't workin' with that asshole. Hate to have to throw you back on the inside right along with him."

"You carry on, Deputies," Merle said, waving a dismissive hand at them. "You call me if you need any more help doing your jobs."

Shane led the way back out through the office and into the deceptively sunny parking lot, zipping his jacket against the chill as he watched Daryl light another cigarette. "Might be traceable," he said. "How Pete and Gregory hooked up, and when."

Daryl drew in a long hit of tobacco smoke, blowing it out as he answered. "Might be."

"And now that we know Pete's accomplice is one of the same guys as before, we can start looking into them, see if any of them are out of prison yet."

"Same source," Daryl said, repeating Merle's words out loud. "Gareth is the source. We know he's still locked up, and probably most of his guys we busted, but let's just see who's been on his visitor sheet."

"Gotta get a warrant to match a name to the prescriptions Dale is talking about."

"I think I know a judge who might help me out with that."

"Guess we're splitting up, then," Shane said. "Save your next smoke till you get in your own car."

"Deputy Dixon!" Judge King's voice boomed against the marble surfaces of the courthouse lobby. He strode across the shiny, stone floor, clapping a hand on Daryl's back when he reached the desk where he was waiting.

"Your honor," Daryl replied. "This mean you got a minute to chat?"

"Of course," the judge said, extending his hand for the affidavit that Daryl had brought. "Let's walk and talk. I have a session coming up."

Daryl followed the man down a long corridor to the section of the building where the judge's had their chambers, while King scanned the file. "This is interesting," he said, while he read.

"It is," Daryl replied, "and I need the warrant in a rush. Think you can help me out?"

King stopped, folding his arms and offering a jovial grin. "Seems I have become the go to man for the department when any of you need a favor."

"Yeah, well, I just need a signature, nothing more. We got the probable cause."

"That you do."

"Look, I know you wanted to help Rick out with his thing," Daryl said. "I also know why you didn't. This will help him too. Warrant's to look into Dr. Anderson, but there's more to it, and there's a reason I want it done today."

"Alright, Dixon," Judge King said. "Say no more. I can sign it today." He glanced at his wristwatch then back up at Daryl. "Good luck on this."

Michonne plopped down in the rolling chair at her desk and Rick took Maggie's seat, watching her pace the room with her cellphone to her ear. They'd been at every key spot in town twice over and, as the morning turned to afternoon, she felt as if they'd already put in a full day.

Unlike their star organizer, most of Michonne's duties for the day were carried out in public, and her feet were already sore from beating the pavement in her high heels. She kicked them off under the desk and rubbed the soles of her stockinged feet one at a time. They were five hours into a twelve hour day, that was hopefully going to be followed by a victory party that would last well into the night, and she was in desperate need of a caffeine refill.

Rick motioned for her to hand over her task, and she rolled the chair closer to him, setting her feet in his lap. "Feels like a lot of just bein' seen today," he said, rolling the ball of her foot between his fingers. "There's gotta be more to do."

"You're getting antsy?" she asked.

"I don't like sittin' around."

"Most of the works been done," she said, running the foot that he wasn't massaging up and down his thigh. "Now we wait...and bring sandwiches to the volunteers." She gestured to the table of lunch items that she and Maggie had prepared for the shift change of sign holders and hand shakers. "You should eat."

Rick lifted the bottom of her foot to his lips, then released her. "I'll get you a plate," he said, standing to cross the room just as the front door swung open.

"Hey," Daryl grunted as he and Shane sauntered through the door. "Looks like we're just in time."

Rick took a detour from the buffet table to greet his two friends instead. "You sign up for this shift so you could get a free lunch?" Rick joked, standing before the two men with his hands on his hips.

"Nah," Daryl said. "Forgot I was even on the list." He flashed a grin at Maggie and she glared at him from her spot leaning against the wall. "We came for somethin' else."

"That's right," Shane said with a grin. "Got a gift for you for your big day."

"And what might that be," Michonne said, padding over to where they stood.

"Anderson's head on the proverbial plate," Shane said. "Oh, and Gregory's downfall for dessert."

Maggie was keeping an ear on the conversation and she quickly hung up her phone when she heard them mention Gregory. "What do you mean?" she asked, as she joined the circle they had made, mimicking Rick's stance.

"Seems Anderson got a lot more out of that task force assignment few years back than we thought," Daryl said. "Deanna picked the wrong asshole to trust with the details of the case."

Michonne rolled her eyes at Daryl's inability to play nice with her boss, even after Rick had considered it water under the bridge. "What exactly did he get?"

"Names, opportunities...mostly ideas," Shane answered.

"Remember Gareth's last ditch proposition? Right before he shot you?" Daryl asked Rick. "You look the other way, and he cuts you in?"

"I remember."

"Seems Pete was inspired by it. Gave him the idea to cash in his own services, mostly his prescription pad. Gotta hand it to him, it's ballsy."

"Gareth is in jail," Rick said, still not following.

"He's still running the show from his cell to some degree," Daryl explained. "Pete approached one of Gareth's guys just after the names and transcripts made their way to the group debrief."

"Merle tell you that?

"He gave us the basics. Been doing a little digging around at the doctor's patient list and a few familiar names appeared."

"And you can trust what Merle says?" Maggie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He's got a vested interest as usual. He took the cash to tell his sob story 'bout his run in with Rick, but even before Michonne went and talked to him," Daryl said, cutting her a look that Maggie joined in on, "I think he knew his days at the top were numbered when Pete started asking him to be a go between for him and Gareth in an effort to keep his hands out of the day to day. He ain't Wall Street material, but Merle knows when he's about to get screwed in a business deal. Gareth's guys cut into his business once before, and Pete was giving them a key back in the door and handing them a much bigger product to push."

"How exactly did Pete think he could get away with that?" Rick scoffed. "I've got eyes on all their suppliers?"

Michonne gasped, her hands coming to her mouth. "Gregory! That's why he wants him to win the seat."

"Nah," Shane said, "that's why he got Gregory to run. He didn't just come out of nowhere like we thought; Pete tapped him for the job. The two were classmates back in their undergrad days; frat brothers actually. Far as we can tell, they connected up through some online Alumni networking group. We'll need another warrant to pull the direct messages, but we can track exactly when contact was made just through the open forum part of the site."

"Don't think this was the type of thing they were banking on when the school decided to help their grads keep in touch," Daryl grinned.

"So Anderson set this whole thing up, what? A year ago?" Rick asked, doing the math in his head as to when Gregory appeared on their radar.

"More than that," Shane said. "He started his dealing with Gareth before he was even behind bars. Seems he only thought to bring Gregory in once he saw the writing on the wall that you were gonna replace Dion. Probably knew Gareth's guys wouldn't be too thrilled 'bout doin' business in a place where the head law enforcement official had a personal beef with them. They got plenty of other places to deal in."

"So Pete was afraid his partnership was going to dry up if Rick got elected, so he tried to put his own guy in charge to make sure the coast was clear." Michonne said, as she followed along.

"That's right," Shane said. "Funny thing is, one thing that actually blew his cover was pretending he didn't know Gregory. If he had been out there campaigning on the street with the guy, it woulda looked like one blowhard supporting another, but he went out of his way to avoid supporting him in public, people started to notice."

"What people?" Rick asked.

"Horvath," Daryl said, knowing Shane wasn't giving the proper credit. "Put two and two together between the prescriptions and Pete's odd behavior. Once Merle appeared on Gregory's payroll, he'd almost figured it out himself."

"That's what he wanted us to look into?" Rick asked, sharing a glance with Michonne.

"He gave us the missing piece: Pete's interest. Merle confirmed a few things. Gave us enough to take 'em down."

Rick was quiet as he scratched his fingers along his jaw, everyone's eyes trained on him, waiting for a reaction. After a few minutes, a smile began to creep onto his face. "I guess there's only one question left, then," he said, his eyes giving him away. "Should we arrest him at his campaign office? Or wait to catch him at the polls?"

Daryl and Shane let out a chuckle as Maggie struggled to keep hers intact. Michonne didn't laugh, though. "Rick," she said, coming to stand in front of him and capturing his focus from the rest of the group. "Wait."

"What is it?" he asked, looking down at her with confusion.

"You're gonna win this thing," she said. "Don't let it be with an asterisk next to your name." She placed both her palms on his chest and glanced over her shoulder at Maggie. "The evidence will still be there tomorrow. Win tonight, on your own merits, then make Pete and Gregory your first order of business."

"She's right," Maggie agreed. "You've earned this. People shouldn't think you won by default."

Rick tore his eyes away from Michonne to look at his two fellow officers. Shane had his head hung, but he was peering up at him with a cocky smile. Daryl gave him a single nod. "It'll still be there tomorrow," his partner agreed.

"If I don't win," he started, "this thang gets a whole lot more complicated. Election will be over, we'll probably have to start a whole new campaign."

"You're gonna win," Maggie said.

"Rick," Michonne whispered, tugging on the collar of his shirt to pull his face to hers. "We've got this. This is where you show everyone once and for all."

Rick studied the determination in Michonne's eyes and the convincing smiles on the rest of their faces. "Alright," he agreed with a nod. "Tomorrow then."

The polls closed at seven o'clock and the large group that had been gathered since happy hour, slowly began to turn their attention to the television screens above Morgan's bar, as he flipped each one to a different local news station.

The sudden change from ambient music to political banter stole Rick's attention, and he tilted his head upward from his perch on a stool, to take a look at the first reports. There were quite a few local races going on in the state, and all of them were being covered, but a scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen was keeping them apprised of the the early numbers for everyone.

"You should really be mingling," Michonne said as she snuck up behind him, and pressed against his back. She peered over his shoulder at his short glass of scotch, and he handed it to her.

"You're nervous," he said, noting the way she barely reacted to a gulp of harsh liquid.

"I'm not," she promised. "I'm excited."

Rick nodded, taking his drink back. "Another few hours, our world's gonna change. You ready?" he asked, repeating her question from the morning.

"It won't be the first time my life was changed at this bar," she said quietly, her voice thick with adoration for the man she was eyeing.

He smiled back at her reaching a hand out to her waist to pull her in between his legs. "You and me, Michonne," he said. "Everything I have, I have because of us." He leaned in to kiss her lips as chastly as he could, since they had a large audience.

The very first percentage signs started to appear on the television and when Rick's name came up at three percent to Gregory's zero, the crowd let out an exuberant cheer. Rick chuckled against Michonne's ear. "It's gonna be a long night," he said.

"Hey, Michonne," Carl said, appearing in Rick's line of sight when he pulled away. "You wanna shoot some darts?"

Rick shook his head of all the comments on the tip of his tongue and Michonne eyed him knowingly. "Of course I do," she said, fixing to pull out of Rick's grasp. "But he's not invited."

"Nope," Carl said, smirking at his father before leading her away.

He watched them wander to the otherside of the bar, then spotted Glenn and Abraham headed his way. He lifted his glass to them in greeting.

""Nother round, sir," Abraham called loudly to Morgan, when he reached the bar, and the barman happily complied. "How you feelin' about Gregory's impending ass kicking, Deputy?" He slapped Rick on the back and pulled a trio of cigars from his shirt pocket, passing them around.

"Let's not count any chickens yet," Rick countered with practiced humility, but the truth was he was starting to feel more confident by the minute. Michonne was right, it was beginning to look like a sure thing. As soon as he'd spoke, another cheer echoed through the crowd and he glanced at the newest update; he'd picked up another few percentage points.

"Come on, man," Glenn said, running the tobacco underneath his nose with a long sniff, as if he had been doing it for years. Rick didn't miss the slight crinkle to his face at the bitter scent. "We were out there all day. You got this in the bag."

"That's right," Abe said. "This town belongs to Rick Grimes."

Rick shook his head at his dramatic friend, moving on to the fresh shot Morgan had placed in front of him.

Abe took his as well, holding it up as if he was going to toast, before he paused. "Where're Dixon and Walsh? This is supposed to be a victory party. Let's get it started."

"They'll be along." He knew both men were probably back at the station finishing up the last of the paperwork so that either Pete, or Gregory, or both could be taken in first thing in the morning. Glancing around, he figured that must be where Andrea was as well. Even so, the room was packed and he was a bit overwhelmed at the crowd that had assembled on a Tuesday night to hopefully share in his victory. He saw Sasha and Rosita chatting with Michonne near the dart board where his son was taking his shot. Tara who had seemingly worked her way into the game, was standing beside him. Francine was chatting with Carol who was behind the bar helping keep up with the buzzing crowd. Even his mother, who was approaching her bedtime, was sitting quietly in a booth talking with Maggie and Hershel. Everyone he knew, and a lot of people he didn't, had practically filled the place to capacity.

He felt the rush of cold air on his back when the front door opened, and he turned, expecting to see Shane and Daryl finally appear. Instead, what he saw had him practically leaping off of his bar stool, and heading for the entrance. Shelly was pushing her way through the crowd with Enid behind her and a bundled up baby Judith in her arms. Rick watched the little pom pom on the baby's hat bounce as Shelly carried her past a group of people and met him in the middle of the room. He glanced around for Michonne and caught her rushing toward them too, having spotted the trio as they arrived.

"Shelly," Rick said, reaching out to cup Judith's head with a tender caress. "What are you doing here?"

Michonne and Carl joined them then, wearing matching smiles.

"Hi Michonne. Hi Carl. Have any of you been home at all today?"

"Not since this morning," Michonne said, her smile turning to a worried frown.

"The notice of the hearing came in the mail!" Shelly said, bouncing the baby in her arms and beaming at the two. "It's in two weeks. Looks like she'll be yours by Thanksgiving."

Michonne brought her hands to her mouth, happy tears rushing her eyes. She turned to Carl, embracing him quickly, before diving into Rick's arms. Rick caught her, taking a couple of steps backward to steady himself. His own eyes began to well up and he wiped at them as he laughed and covered the top of her head with kisses. Michonne finally pulled away, turning back to Shelly and Judith. "Thank you so much for coming to tell us," she said, almost out of breath with excitement.

"Of course!" Shelly smiled. "It's a big night for your family. She should be here."

Rick and Michonne shared another look before Rick held his arms out to Judith. "May I?" he asked, and Shelly quickly handed her over.

Rick cradled the little bundle wrapped in white fleece in his arms as another cheer erupted from the crowd behind them. He couldn't take his eyes off of Judith's face to check the update, though, he was lost in her tiny blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Michonne reached over, stroking the baby's arm and watching Rick look the most content he had all day. "What did you say about our world changing?" she chuckled.

He smiled back, placing a kiss on Judith's forehead and then Michonne's. He reached for Carl with his free arm, pulling him into the little circle they had made, and the young man came willingly, settling into Michonne's side. "No matter what happens tonight," Rick said, tossing a nod at the still blaring TV, "no matter what happens tomorrow with Gregory or Pete...right here, right now, we've already won."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: To all of my followers who read my angsty one shot yesterday, here is my apology in the form of a fluffy, happy, Christmas chapter of this story. Maybe even a little smut lite. Thanks to you all for your reviews and follows. Happy belated Christmas and New Year!

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 **6 weeks later**

Michonne pushed the front door open with her shoulder, both of her arms filled with multiple shopping bags, all practically overflowing. Rick was right behind her, Judith in the crook of one arm, his other equally weighed down with wrapping paper and boxes. She set her bags on the floor just inside the door, and crossed the room to flip on the switch to the Christmas tree. The strands of twinkling lights cast a colorful glow around the dark room that the baby seemed to notice right away, her head rolling in the direction of the display, and her little eyes growing wide with wonder as the reds and greens reflected in her little blue irises.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Rick cooed, as he took a few bouncy steps over to the tree to give her a better look.

Michonne closed the door behind them, then followed to where they stood, taking his bags from the hook of his bicep so he could use both hands to lift Judith toward the sparkling lights.

"I think she does!" she said, joining in Rick's excited tone. "Don't you, Judy?"

Rick settled her back in his arms, his bouncing turning to gentle rocking when her saucer eyes started to narrow again to sleepy slits. "I'll get her settled in bed," he said. "It's getting late."

"I'll do it," Michonne offered, reaching for the little bundle. He nodded, kissing her on the forehead before handing her over.

"Good night, Judy," he whispered against her knit bonnet. "Go right to sleep now. Don't keep your mama too long."

"We won't be long," she promised, heading off to their bedroom where Judith's bassinet was situated beside their bed. "Don't start without me, Rick. I have a certain way of wrapping them..."

"I know, I know," he said, shooing her down the hallway with a grin.

Rick wandered back into the living room, confident that he could at least handle taking the gifts out of the bags and organizing them. The new Iphone that he came across in the first bag he unloaded reminded him he should probably text Carl before it got too late. He pulled out his own simple, aged device, chuckling at how many more jokes he was going to be subjected to from his son when his technology was surpassed yet again.

" _Are you behaving?"_ he typed, expecting an immediate answer, since the boy was never far from his phone.

A simple 'yes' pinged in a moment later, but Rick wasn't satisfied.

" _Cause you know I can send a deputy down to check out this party if I need to."_

" _Don't worry, Dad. No one wants to get in trouble with the Sheriff's kid. You've successfully killed all of my fun for the next 4 years."_

Rick chuckled at his son's joke and smiled proudly at the fact that he was probably right. It was an added benefit of the job and he hoped to keep it going until Judith was old enough to be affected as well; at least a few more terms.

" _Alright. Text me when you get to Duane's for the night or I'll call Morgan myself to check up."_

" _Fine. Good night, Dad."_

" _Good night."_

Rick settled back into the couch, turning an ear to the hallway, and he heard Michonne's voice still drifting from their room as she sung Judith a quiet lullaby. He figured he had a few more minutes to kill and decided to light a fire in the fireplace to take the chill out of the cold, December evening before he went any further with unpacking. He stepped outside briefly to gather some wood and by the time Michonne returned he had a roaring blaze going in the hearth, as well as a few candles lit around the room. When she finally joined him, after changing into comfortable pants and a loose t-shirt, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, sorting the gifts into piles with a beer for him, and a glass of wine for her on the coffee table beside him.

"You were busy," she said, taking a seat beside him and the long-stemmed glass in her hand.

"You were gone awhile," he said, lightly tapping the end of his bottle to her glass as she lifted it.

"She's been here a month and I still don't want to put her down."

Rick smiled, having known that was the most likely reason for the extended bedtime rituals.

"We may have gone overboard," he sighed, turning his attention back to the stacks of toys and other items that needed to be wrapped.

"Never," she said, her grin growing, "Besides, somebody just got a big promotion. He deserves to spoil the kids."

"I'm sure Carl would agree with you," he chuckled, picking up the newest Xbox game from the pile and reading the back of the case to himself. "But Judith is too young to care about any of this stuff."

"Don't be a grinch, Sheriff. We have a lot to celebrate this Christmas."

"That we do," he agreed, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek and then her lips. The cozy winter evening and the way her face practically glowed with contentment had him wishing they could forget about wrapping gifts and get wrapped up in each other instead. They wouldn't get another free night before Christmas, though, and they had to get this stuff hidden from Carl's snooping eyes. Anything left in the house unwrapped was bound to be stumbled upon by the kid who'd been begging for hints since Thanksgiving. Rick liked to tease him and tell him Judith was his only gift this year, and though he was sure he would change his mind if he thought Rick were serious, Carl didn't seem too upset by the reply.

"You're in charge of tape," Michonne ordered, pulling away from his prowling lips to get back to work. He figured she would keep them on task and he sighed heavily, resigned to being her assistant in this endeavor. He handed her the roll of shiny, red paper printed with glittery white snowflakes and sipped his beer, waiting patiently for more instruction.

"So Pete's trial is coming up beginning of the year." Michonne reached for a piece of tape, using it to secure a perfectly folded edge of paper to the box she was wrapping. "It will be your first big conviction as Sheriff."

Rick nodded around his sip of beer. "It will be."

"So, you put him behind bars, take down the network he's built. Then what?"

"Gregory will be next," he said with a shrug. "And soon as we get through the swearing in ceremony, I can look into startin' that prescription abuse prevention program you suggested."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, continuing to transform the box in front of her. She paused her work to look over at him. "But I mean, what do you want to do? Dion ran things a certain way and it worked well for the most part, but you're in charge now. You've got to reorder things your way. You're gonna do big things, Rick. The community is lucky to have you."

"We're gonna do big things, Michonne. There's no me without you. You're the reason I'm here and not still in that place Merle was recalling and Gregory had people remembering. You and me are gonna reorder things together."

Michonne smiled bashfully under his intense stare, nodding. "We do make a good team," she agreed, getting back to her wrapping. "I mean, we won that thing by a landslide."

Rick laughed at her lack of humility when it came to the election results. She'd even framed the front page of the paper announcing the historic margin of victory, giving the print a prominent spot on top of the mantel. "We did. And we're also doing pretty well at this whole new parent thing."

"This isn't your first time," she said, with a knowing grin.

"No, but it's been a long time since Carl was that size. I forgot what it was like to be up all hours of the night. Formula, diapers...it's a transition. But it's all worth it." His voice turned deliberate then, and she looked up to see a vigilance in his eyes, something primal that she recognized. "I was worried, you know? I didn't want to say it, but I didn't know how it'd be once she was finally here. If she would feel like ours right away, or that'd be something that would come in time. But there's no question anymore; she's ours. She's my daughter and I'll die before I let anything happen to her. I hope that's a long time from now, so I can show her the world and teach her all the things she needs to know."

Michonne nodded, struck by the intensity in his declaration, but finding nothing but absolute truth in his words. If Carl was any indication, Judith had hit the jackpot by being claimed by Rick Grimes. She reached out and rested her hand on his cheek, soothing the emotion that had overtaken him. "I thought about that too," she confessed. "But you're right. There's no question where she belongs."

He leaned into her palm, letting his eyes slip closed as she beckoned him back to the lighthearted task. "No question."

"Come on now, Sheriff," she smiled. "These gifts aren't going to wrap themselves."

…

When Michonne had magically turned the shopping bags full of toys into piles of exquisitely wrapped boxes, decked with fancy bows and elegantly written tags, it was time to ferry them to their hiding place. Both of their arms loaded to capacity, they brought the lot upstairs and into Judith's empty nursery for safe keeping.

Michonne pulled on the string to the rectangular cut out in the ceiling, freeing the retractable ladder that led to the attic space above, and stepped gingerly on the rungs in her bare feet. She climbed halfway up, reaching back to grab the gifts as Rick handed them to her from his spot on the floor. She stretched upward, balancing on the balls of her feet to place box after box in the hiding space that, despite using it every year, Carl had somehow never thought to look. Maybe he liked the surprise more than he let on, she thought as she arranged the gifts in an easily accessible stack.

Rick handed her two more boxes, watching intently as the hem of her t-shirt lifted up just enough to expose the small of her back with every stretch.

"This is a nice view," he said, reaching up to knead one ass cheek with his palm. Michonne laughed, and he let go to lay a playful smack on the other one, a low growl escaping from his gritted teeth.

"Hand me the last present," she said, pretending to be intent on the task, but making sure to push her hips back ever so slightly so he got a close up.

He reluctantly pulled away, grabbing the last wrapped box and handing it up to her, and she nestled it onto the floor space with the others. Brushing off her hands in celebration of a job well done, she attempted to descend the ladder, but Rick stayed put, refusing to move as she inched closer to him. When her backside was just above his eye level, he reached out a hand to stop her, squeezing her hip and taking a step closer to trap her legs in place with his chest.

"Are you going to let me down?" she asked, peering at him over her shoulder.

He ran his hands up her sides and down again, in lieu of a response, rolling the waistband of her pajama pants under his fingers on the downward stroke. Hooking underneath the soft cotton, he pulled until her ruby red panties poked out from the top. "I saw you put these on earlier," he said, standing on his toes to nudge away the lace with his nose and sink his teeth into the round curve of flesh he had exposed. He heard her gasp a little and he tapped her again, harder, watching her skin bounce in reverberation.

"Turn around," he said, and she carefully adjusted her feet on the rung, turning until he was face to face with her center. She watched him lick his lips and stare as he continued to slowly strip away her pants.

"Rick," she protested weakly. "We're in the baby's room."

He uncovered the curve of her hip, immediately replacing the fabric with his mouth. "She's in ours," he mumbled against her skin. "Look at this designer nursery she's got, and she doesn't even use it."

Michonne laughed sympathetically, her fingers finding his curls as he worked his way along the top of her underwear, kissing and nipping at the skin just above her dark line of hair. "She's too little," she said, in between small pulls of air. "I don't want her in a different room yet."

"That's fine," he replied. "But if we're sharin' our room, she can share too."

He stopped what he was doing and gripped both her pants and her underwear in his hands, pulling them all the way down to her knees, and she placed her hands on the top of his head to steady herself as he helped her step out of them one leg at a time. "Let me get off the ladder," she whispered, reaching behind her to the wooden railing to help guide her now weak legs downward.

"I don't think I will." He smiled up at her, pressing one hand against her belly to steady her, and lifted her leg, tossing it over his shoulder. He turned his cheek to nuzzle the scruff of his jaw on the inside of her thigh, and she clutched his hair in anticipation. "It's been a little bit," he whispered.

"Too long," she answered, her eyes rolling shut when his fingers found her, warming her up for what was to come. She leaned backwards, the slant of the ladder offering a comfortable, if not somewhat bumpy recline.

"I missed this," he said, taking pleasure in reacquainting himself with the feel of her writhing in the palm of his hand. Since they had been sharing a room with Judith, and she didn't seem to have the same affection for sleep as her roommates, their sex life had been resigned to silent, missionary style sessions in the dark. It was like they were a couple of teenagers, forced to get off quickly and in some secret place before they were found out, instead of two people who knew each other inside and out and understood the value of taking the scenic route. He knew it was only temporary, but he missed the slow and steady exploration; watching the buildup and being rewarded for his work with her pleasured, audible expressions. Having her alone and in full view was a rare gift these days and he was going to enjoy it.

She had missed the attention too. Rick was nothing if not thorough and with all of the chaos, and excitement, and exhaustion over the last month of new parenthood, she was craving the type of release that came from his meticulous approach. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but was cut short when the firmness of his fingers was suddenly replaced by his warm, malleable tongue. "Rick," she gasped, with no intention of finishing the sentence.

He smiled at her reaction, her spot on the ladder affording him a comfortable angle as he circled her with his tongue. He could do this all night. "Yeah?" he whispered against her, causing a shiver to wrack her lower half.

"Don't stop."

He chuckled; he had no intention of it. Time was finally on their side and he was going to make the most of it. Her sharp breaths were turning into louder moans as she clawed at his hair with a delightfully painful grip, and pressed herself against his face. He tried to hold her steady, so he had room to work, but she was gaining control and he couldn't say he minded watching her take what she wanted from him. He continued to taste, and kiss, and whisper against her until she was practically yelling his name.

"Don't wake that baby up, Michonne," he managed to breath out on a short respite before diving back in. "I'm not done with you."

His promise, and that husky drawl that never failed to elicit a physical response from her, pushed her over the edge and she reached behind her, grasping the rung above her head to keep from falling as her legs shook and her hips bucked against the self-satisfied grin that had spread across his face.

Rick held her hips with both hands now, keeping her safely in place as she rode out the last wave of pleasure that coursed through her. When he felt her body begin to go lax against him and her thigh begin to feel heavy on his shoulder, he shifted out from under it and lifted her off the ladder, setting her down on the floor. He slid his hands up to cup her face, her eyes still clenched shut as he captured her mouth, attempting to breath her back to life with a fervent kiss. Like Sleeping Beauty, his lips revived her and she caught up to his pace, finding the buckle on his belt and quickly working it free.

He walked her backward as she unbuttoned him, until her back was pressed against the wall and she had only enough room between them to snake a hand into his boxers. He gripped her thigh again, preparing to hoist her up so he could settle in between her legs, but she stopped him. "Wait," she said into his mouth, the sound barely registering in his brain as his body took full control. "Let's go downstairs."

Rick forced on the brakes, slightly impatient at her reservations, given what they had already done in this room, but the adorable smile she gave him had him willing to grant her request, no matter how irrational he thought it was. "Not in our room," he bargained. "I don't want to be quiet."

She stood on her toes and took his lower lip between her teeth with a wicked grin, proving quiet wasn't where they were headed. "The couch," she said, pulling away with a kiss.

She grabbed his hand, leading the way, while he followed, holding his pants up with the other. He followed her to the staircase, pressing against her back and nipping at her shoulder the whole way down, while she giggled in front of him.

When they landed in the living room, Rick spotted the still roaring fire and had a better idea. He shuffled them past the couch, grabbing a blanket from the back of it on the way and stretching it out on the rug in front of the hearth. "Come 'ere," he said, lowering himself to the floor and reaching out to her.

Michonne followed, grabbing the baby monitor that was still sitting on the coffee table, before dropping down beside him. She set the little screen a safe distance away, then crawled toward him, tossing a knee over his lap to straddle him. Rick pulled his henley over his head, and she reached up to do the same with the t-shirt she still had on. He gathered her against him before she could finish, pressing his lips to her tummy while she struggled with her last remaining pieces of clothing, finally freeing herself of her shirt and her bra. Rick fell backward onto the blanket, and she allowed herself a moment to admire the way the flickering flames and the soft glow of the Christmas tree created shadows out of the definitition in his pecs and the v-cut of his lower abs. She found herself licking her own lips before she dropped onto his chest, letting him engulf her with his arms before finding her mouth again.

Rick wasn't interested in leisurely indulgence anymore, though. Not since she had stopped them in Judith's nursery. He rolled them over, stealing her position on top, then pulled at her hips so she was directly below him, all gentleness gone from his touch. Her knees fell open on instinct, clearing the way for him to settle in his rightful spot, and he took no time at all pushing his still open jeans down his hips and using his fist to guide himself inside her. Her whole body stiffened at the sensation of him gliding across her still sensitive walls then, just as quickly, melted into the pace he was setting, content to let him take the lead again.

The heat of the fire, and the work he was putting in, painted a slight sheen of sweat across his brow. It mixed with her own as he pressed their foreheads together, locking their eyes in a tender gaze that said everything they'd been meaning to say since their lives took off running at full speed a few weeks prior. New job, new baby, it was a huge transition and, though they were both happier than they ever imagined, the quiet times where they just sat and enjoyed each other's company had been on an indefinite hiatus. He reached his hand up to cover her throat, stroking at the soft skin beneath her jaw with the pad of his thumb, and pressed his lips against her ear as he offered his final thrusts, holding out just long enough to take her with him.

After collapsing into her arms with a pleasured groan, he shifted his weight to the floor beside her and settled his cheek against her shoulder, trailing a finger along her flat stomach as they both recaptured their breath.

"I never thanked you," she finally whispered, her own fingers finding his hair again, this time with a more gentle caress.

"For what?" He propped himself up and stared down at her half closed eyes.

"For making this real," she said. "For waiting for me to get here. For being patient while I figured out what I was feeling."

"How do you feel now?" he asked, matching her muted volume.

"Happy," she answered, with a smile that proved her admission. "Content." She turned her head to kiss the inside of his bent arm, breathing in his skin. "It feels like nothing I expected, but everything I had been waiting for at the same time."

Having a child with Rick had always been, in her mind, a way to honor the way she felt for him with a living, breathing testament, forever cementing them as family. Somehow, walking this path with him was accomplishing the same goal; he had made her see that. The perspective shift had been monumental and she knew no one else would have been able to get through to her that way. No one else ever had.

"I'm happy too," he said, laying back down beside her and pulling her in close. The warmth of her body and the relief he found in her arms had his breathing starting to slow, and he felt himself succumbing to the workout he had just put in.

"Don't even think about going to sleep," she said, nudging his leg with her foot.

"I need a few minutes, Michonne. I'm not a machine."

She chuckled at his sleepy voice and his joke. "I meant I'm hungry. Let's make a snack."

Rick laughed along with her. "I should have guessed."

…

"This is the first time I've seen her sit down," Hershel laughed, nudging Rick's elbow and pointing at Michonne. He put down the dish he was washing, and turned to see his wife lounging with her feet draped across the arm of the couch, watching Carl and Glenn do battle on his new video game. Rick smiled, happy to see it. They'd been up since five for Christmas morning, and Judith had had a particularly fussy night. They might have thought she was just excited about her very first Christmas, if she hadn't taken a full bottle upon every wake up. At this rate she'd be Carl's size by New Year's, he thought.

"She deserves it," Rick replied. "Hasn't been much of a rest bein' off of work these last few weeks. With the holidays, it's been almost as crazy as the campaign."

"Bethy said you've asked her to nanny when Michonne goes back to work. She's ecstatic. We're all so happy for your family, Rick."

"Well, we're gonna need her, and speaking of family, it'll be good to have one of our own with Judy. I know it'll make Michonne feel better to know Beth is watching over her. You're all family too."

"So how's it feel?" the old man asked, settling in on drying duty.

"What's that?"

"Adding a little girl to the mix." Hershel turned to lean on the counter beside Rick, waiting for another dish. "I recognize the look; pride mixed with a little terror." He laughed heartily at his quip and Rick's acknowledging smirk.

"Yes, sir. That about sums it up."

"Take it from me, son, girls are a whole different animal, but the rewards come in spades. When she looks up at you with those little eyes and calls you 'Daddy', you'll be putty in her hands."

Rick smiled, rinsing off a platter and handing it over. "I just hope to do right by her; by Carl. Be the kind of man that can leave 'em both with something after I'm gone. She didn't get a say about coming into this family, but I hope to make it the best thing that ever happened to her. I take the responsibility seriously."

"I know you do," Hershel nodded. "My father was a violent drunk, Rick. He was no good to anybody. I left his house at fifteen and never looked back. Some men do not earn the love of their children. I don't see you havin' that problem."

Rick shut the faucet off and turned around to lean on the counter beside his friend. "Michonne thanked me the other day, for Judith, for helping her find her way to this. I couldn't help but think that thanks should be passed on to you. If it weren't for you, I mighta let it go."

"No Rick," Hershel said with a chuckle. "That wasn't my hand pulling you two here."

"Ah, I see," Rick replied. "We're back to that."

"Are we not?" Hershel said, gesturing to the next room over where the laughter from both men's children could be heard.

Rick smiled again, more genuinely, and set his hands on his hips. "I'll sit with it a little longer before I make any judgements there, but whether it was fate or God or good old fashioned determination, those two were meant to be together and everyone who had a part in that deserves my gratitude. So, thank you."

"You're welcome. I've known you a long time, Rick," Hershel said, with a gleam in his eye. "You've always done better when you've had something to fight for. Now you're surrounded by those somethings and I can see the change in you. It makes me happy."

"It makes me happy, too," Rick agreed.

"Rick," Rebeccah said, coming into the kitchen with Judith in her arms. "Daryl is here, and he has an armload of gifts for the kids."

Rick shook his head. "Time for round two," he laughed, drying his hands on a towel before going to greet his partner.

The two men joined the rest of the group just in time to see Carl tearing into a gift bag that Daryl had handed him and pulling out a couple of new comic books. He thanked his friend with a huge grin and a high five, and Rick offered him his own hello with a handshake turned hug.

Daryl finished the greetings, moving around the room until he finally got to the newest member of the household. "Lemme see that little girl," Daryl said, reaching for Judith. Rebeccah placed her carefully in his arms and he sat down on the couch.

"Where's Merle today?" Michonne asked, reclaiming her seat on the other side of the sofa and stroking Judith's head as Daryl held her.

"I saw him for breakfast," he answered in between talking baby talk to Judith. "He's huntin' the rest of the day."

Michonne glanced at Rick to find him keeping an inconspicuous ear on the conversation. "Well, I hope he has a happy holiday," she said. "And I hope you'll tell him I said so; we said so."

Daryl nodded, appreciatively, before changing the subject. "Suppose this little one's takin' my seat for the drive upta the mountain for New Year's," he joked. "Y'all wanna caravan right from the swearing in? Rosita's driving us, so I'm packing some road sodas. Don't tell the Sheriff." He winked at Glenn who suddenly looked nervous.

"We're all going to and from the same place," Maggie replied. "Might as well."

"Good. Suppose the sleeping arrangements'll be different this year too. Think Mike will make it up?" Daryl continued his round of good natured ribbing with a smirk in Rick's direction.

"I hope he does," Rick replied, taking the small space between Michonne and the arm of the couch. She shifted to snuggle into his side. "I always meant to thank him."

"For what?" Michonne asked, incredulously.

"For lookin' at you like I shoulda been."

"I don't think the looking was the problem," Maggie giggled. "It was the acting."

"As in acting like an idiot," Daryl said.

"Yeah, Dad," Carl chimed in, plopping down on the arm of the couch beside him. "I'm glad you finally figured things out."

"Well, I smartened up," he said proudly, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"And that was Mike's doing?" Michonne said, joining in Maggie's laughter.

"Enough about Mike," Rick said, waving a hand at the lot of them. "We'll figure out the rooms when we get there and we'll all leave from the court house."

"Should be a nice time for you all," Rebeccah said from her spot in front of the fire. She was beaming at the little family huddled together on the couch, and the larger one spread throughout the room. "Maybe Judy will like the mountain air and get a little sleep."

"That would be a Christmas miracle," Rick joked earning him a nod from Michonne.

 **...**

When everyone had finished dessert and finally headed off for their own homes, it was Rick's turn to rest. Michonne was collecting toys from around the house, and Carl flipping through his new comic books, when she suddenly realized the silence meant he hadn't come back from putting Judith down for her late afternoon nap. She wandered into their bedroom, spotting him face down on her side of the bed. He was asleep with one hand resting on the bassinet as if he'd passed out in the middle of rocking it. Judith slumbered inside it, looking content to be in her father's presence as much as he was in hers.

The sight of them had her own eyelids drooping. The day had been long and filled with every experience that she had imagined for her daughter's first Christmas. With Carl occupied, and the kitchen already clean, she felt no qualms about climbing onto the bed beside them for some well-earned rest. She pulled the folded blanket from the foot of the bed, laying it over Rick's body, then slid underneath it herself, her head on the pillow beside him. She wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and felt him stir just enough to settle into her embrace.

They'd already celebrated two holidays as their new family of four, she mused, and the next one would put them all back where the beginning seeds of this had been planted. A new year was a week away and for the first time in her adult life, she couldn't think of a single thing to hope for in the coming twelve months that she didn't already have. She was more blessed than she'd ever thought possible.

Michonne was just about to wrap herself in that thought and join her two companions on the other side of consciousness, when she heard the shuffling footsteps of socked feet in the hall. She looked up to see a sluggish looking Carl creeping toward the door.

"I was wondering where everyone went," he said, through a wide yawn.

"Sorry, kid," she whispered, "I couldn't help it." She pushed closer to Rick and pat the bed beside her, motioning for him to join them. She was half expecting an eye roll from the young teen, but he padded over toward the bed, taking a quick look into the crib at his new sister, before climbing up. He stretched his lanky frame diagonally across the foot of the bed and Rick shifted again in his sleep, rolling to his side and pulling his knees up enough to make room for the last of them.

Michonne watched Carl lay an arm over his eyes in a way she'd seen Rick do a hundred times or more and she settled back into her pillow and her husband's back, smiling as her eyes closed and they all drifted off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N Here is the last chapter of this story. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate all of your feedback. Though this story is coming to an end, and I'll be leaving it for awhile, eventually there will be a third and final installment in this series. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm going to get back to Day by Day soon and have an expansion planned for one of my one shots. Hope to see you there. Until then...

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"Michonne!"

"Carl!"

"She's been passed out since we pulled out of the court house," Carl snickered, tossing another M&M at her from his spot riding shotgun. "Michonne!"

"Leave her be and quit throwing candy in my car." Rick said, shaking his head. "She's gonna kick your butt when she wakes up." He glanced again at his wife's form, slumped against the window with one hand stretched across the seat and resting on the edge of Judith's car seat. He saw her shift slightly as the last little candy coated chocolate hit her knee.

"I shoulda rode with Daryl," Carl groaned, saving the rest of his snack for himself.

"You'll get plenty of time with her when we get to the mountain," he said, knowing the boy was missing his time with Michonne, since Judith was occupying more of it. "She needs the rest."

"She went to bed at like eight o'clock last night. And I thought Judy was doing better sleeping this week."

"Doesn't matter. It's still exhausting. You'll see someday."

"Fine." Carl reached over to adjust the radio station again to Rick's irritation. "So, it's all official now, huh?" Carl mused. "Swearing in ceremony was cool. Michonne will have another newspaper print to frame."

Rick laughed as he steered the car off of the highway and into the the tourist town, watching the peak of their destination rise from the horizon in front of them. "She is making quite the collection."

"Well, I hope I can make it on the mantel beside you someday," Carl said, popping another candy in his mouth. "I'm proud of you, Dad. Judy will be too, one day."

Rick glanced over at his son, a little unsure who the mature young man was who was sitting beside him. "Thank you, son," he said, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. "That means a lot."

 **...**

When they reached the mountain road that led them to the familiar twin houses, joined by wooden pergola, Rick took a spot behind Maggie and Glenn, with Daryl and Rosita pulling in right behind him. He killed the engine and hopped out of the S.U.V, opening Judith's door first. He removed the baby seat from its base, checking that she was still tucked under the heavy fleece blanket, before handing it to Carl. Karen and Sasha came rushing out of the larger building at the same time, making a beeline for the baby, and Carl stopped to show off his new baby sister to the gathering crowd.

"Michonne," Rick whispered, leaning across the back seat to get his wife's attention with a stroke of her arm. "We're here." She started awake at the contact, trying to figure out when the car had stopped moving. "You alright?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. She was better at it than him, but still, deep sleeping wasn't usually a habit of hers.

"I'm good. Just...didn't realize I'd been asleep this long.

"Since we left," he laughed, walking around the back to retrieve their luggage, which seemed to have doubled in size since the last time they came, despite trading an adult passenger for an infant. His arms loaded, Rick finished his loop of the car and came to her door, waiting as she slid down to the ground. Michonne reached for a bag, but he shook his head and gestured for her to lead the way.

"Michonne!" Karin squealed as she left Judith's side to embrace the two of them. "She's absolutely perfect."

Michonne's sleepy eyes began to brighten at the mention of her daughter. She hugged Karin and Sasha, then came to stand next to Carl, looking down at the two siblings with pride. "She is. We're over the moon."

"I bet," Karin said. She hugged Rick as best she could around the bags he was carrying, then beckoned them all to follow as she made her way back inside.

"It looks exactly the same," Michonne said, tossing a nostalgic smile at her husband who stood behind her. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or a side effect of having your heart overflowing with joy, but she was getting teary eyed at the mental image she had of the two of them here three years ago with no idea that they would become each other's world.

Rick nodded in silent agreement with the look on her face and dropped a few bags so he could rest an arm around her shoulders.

"So," Karin started, getting back to business, "We've got everyone in the same rooms this year with the exception of you four." She gestured to Daryl, Rosita, Michonne and Rick. "Though I suppose you have the same two rooms, just different roommates.

"What about Tara?" Rosita asked.

"Yeah, and is Mike coming this year?" Daryl gave Rick a secret, playful nudge as he inquired.

"Mike is on his honeymoon, actually," Tyrese answered, coming down the stairs just in time to join the conversation. Daryl nodded, impressed, and Ty offered everyone his greetings while his wife continued.

"Maggie volunteered to let Tara bunk with her and Glenn," she explained.

"We're the old couple now," Maggie laughed. "Well, I suppose Abe and Francine are, but I'm not subjecting her to Abe in his skivvies, and no one should have to share with Shane and Andrea since they've already headed to their room."

"I'm sure she appreciates it," Michonne said with her nose scrunched at the thought of Tara's potential fate.

"I'll take the stuff over, then," Rick offered, preparing to hoist the bags back over his shoulder, but Michonne grabbed them first.

"I'll come with you." She moved to take Judy's car seat from Carl, but Sasha stopped her.

"We'll keep an eye on her, mommy," she said with a smile. "Take your time; settle in."

"Alright," she agreed, looking around the room at the group of honorary aunts and uncles that were already vying for the baby's attention. "There's a bottle in the bag here...oh and diapers. Just come get us if she cries..."

"Don't come get us," Rick said, grabbing Michonne's hand and pulling her down the two steps to the exit. "Carl, you're on diaper duty for a few minutes."

'We got it!" Maggie called as they disappeared outside.

A vision popped into Michonne's head as they crossed the courtyard between the two buildings; the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder, staring at the mountainous terrain and drinking the courage that would lead them to the happiest chance either of them ever took, and she squeezed Rick's hand. He opened the door to the bunkhouse, still pulling her along as she smiled at the brown leather couch that was there the last time, the first night she'd slept beside him.

"My place or yours?" he asked when they got to the top of the stairs. He gestured right then left to the rooms that they had each occupied previously.

"Mine," she said. "I stuck you on the same end as Shane and Andrea on purpose last time."

"Oh really?" he laughed, pushing into her with his chest to propel her in the right direction.

"Yup. You had no idea."

"You played me like a fiddle that whole weekend," he said, opening the door to the bedroom and letting her in.

"Me?"

"Yes you. Walking around in those little shorts in the morning, running your fingers through my hair."

"And how about you?" she asked, tossing the bags she was holding onto the Futon, which was still in the form of a couch. "Sharing your drink until I was tipsy, then telling me all your deepest secrets. Besides, you're the one who kissed me."

"Best thing I ever did," he smiled, pulling her to him with a hand on her waist. He leaned in and kissed her slowly, sweetly, the way he would have that night if he had been able to contain himself.

"It was," she agreed when he finally released her.

"Where do you wanna put the folding crib?" he asked, setting his hands on his hips and surveying the small room.

"Foot of the bed," she said. She gestured to the spot while she took a seat on the double sized bottom bunk. "It's gonna be cozy."

"It is." He made quick work of setting up the crib and attaching the newborn sleeper, then tossed a few of the bags onto the lofted bed above them. Michonne had stretched herself across the mattress, her hands behind her head. There wasn't room for the two of them to be circling each other, putting things away, so she just took the opportunity to watch him work. When he had dressed the crib in a fitted sheet and tossed a few pacifiers into it, he sat down beside her, stretching out his legs. "All settled," he said with a mischievous smile.

"That was quick."

"Still have some time to spare before the crowd gets tired of baby duty."

"If we're going by that, I'd say we have all night." She sat up to meet him, toying with the curls on his head, the way he had just reminisced over. "But we should get back…"

"We will…" He kissed her again, wrapping an arm around her waist and laying her back onto the bed. "In a little while." He slid his hand down to her backside, lifting her hips so he could use his other to push her dress up her thighs.

"Rick…"

"Come on," he smiled, placing another kiss on her neck. "We're used to quick these days. We'll be back before they miss us."

"You're trouble, Sheriff," she flirted, leaning down to lower the zipper on her knee high boots.

"We ain't got that much time," he said, gently pushing her hand away. "Leave 'em." He hooked a finger into her panties, pulling them as far down as he could, before gesturing for her to take over and starting in on his own belt.

She shimmied out of her underwear, giggling at the fact that they were engaging in the exact same wanton behaviour they often chided Shane and Andrea for: midday trysts at inappropriate times. But they had an excuse; alone time was at a premium these days and being back in this place deserved a celebratory session.

When she had disrobed only as much as necessary, she looked back up at him with smiling eyes. He was already quite prepared, intent on not wasting any time, and she laid back down, waiting to receive him.

"Turn over," he said, all levity draining from his face.

"We're on the bottom bunk," she said. "You're going to hit your head."

"Michonne…"

She smiled at the exasperated look on his face, turning over onto her hands and knees, her sweater knit dress bunched around her hips and the toes of her smooth, black boots digging into the mattress. Rick grabbed ahold of the slats beneath the mattress of the upper bunk with one hand, his other previously occupied making sure this was quick, and pulled himself into the cocoon-like trundle. He leaned over her, his hand guiding them together, before settling on the thick curve of her hip.

"Shit," he said, promptly smacking the back of his skull on the wooden frame above them when he threw his head back in pleasure at the sensation of her.

She began to laugh, but he quickly quieted her with a deeper thrust that pushed her front into the pile of pillows she had been facing. "Shit," she repeated, with a decidedly different tone. She bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out, a habit she had taken up over the preceding weeks.

"You think everyone's ok?" he asked, through a shallow breath, curving his body around hers to whisper into her ear.

"Mmmhmm."

"Good." He sat back up, connecting again with the low ceiling and grumbling to himself. He tapped her lightly on the hip and she slipped away from him, flopping onto her back. He followed her, dropping to his forearms and finding his way back inside her. She wrapped a leg around his waist, the leather of her boot cold against his flushed skin.

From his new vantage point he could see just how drained she looked, her lower eyelids heavy and her skin pale in comparison to its usual deep bronze hue. "You feelin' alright?" he asked, his strokes slowing with his attention starting to shift.

"I'm good," she breathed out. "Keep going."

He quickly decided if she wasn't, then the best way to take care of her was to follow her orders, so he pressed his palm to the side of her face and continued to pump his hips into hers. Their decision to make things fast, as well as their relative company, had her speeding to the precipice and she didn't hold back when she felt herself fall over, calling his name just a little louder than she should while clutching at his shirt.

"You're gonna get us in trouble." He chuckled at the speed at which she found her peak, before the pleasured look on her face pulled him over with her.

"God…" she sighed, when he stopped moving above her. Her arms slipped from around his neck and fell like dead weight beside her.

He held his weight off of her with one arm, while he rested his forehead on her chest, his breaths still coming fast. "Quick wasn't a problem," he joked.

"Now we have to go back," she said, with the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling a yawn.

"You can stay here if you still need some rest. I can handle 'em both for a bit."

"I shouldn't," she said, looking like she really wanted to take him up on it. "I slept the whole way here."

"Well, rest for a few while I go use the bathroom." He kissed her forehead and pulled himself up, carefully dodging the wooden booby trap above his head.

"Ok," she yawned again. "I'm next." She laid an arm over her eyes while he pulled his pants back up and slipped out of the door.

His eyes were on his fly, rebuttoning for the walk to the bathroom, when he heard Andrea's wicked laughter echoing in the hall.

"New parents sneaking away for a bit?" she asked with a devilish grin.

"Just gettin' settled," he replied, failing at containing his smirk at being called out.

"I guess I'll wait to say hi to Michonne," she said, turning to make her way down the stairs. "Don't be too long, kids."

When Rick had freshened up and made his way back to their room, he opened the door slowly, as not to startle her, and was unsurprised to see her passed out yet again, in the same position he had left her in. He smiled at her quiet snores and the slow rise and fall of her chest, before reaching for the hem of her wrinkled dress and pulling it back down over her thighs. He grabbed a folded blanket from the top bunk and lay it over her bottom half, then adjusted the blinds to filter out the afternoon sun. With another kiss to her cheek, he grabbed a few items for Judith from her overnight bag and headed back to the group.

…

An hour later, Rick sat at the kitchen island, chatting with Daryl, Shane and Glenn, Judith back in his arms. Abe and Tyrese were working on dinner in the large, chef style kitchen while the women lounged happily across all of the living room furniture, catching up with each other over a bottle of wine. All except one of them. Rick checked his watch for the time, and was just about to go and check on Michonne, when he heard the door open and she appeared at the landing. She looked refreshed, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and she'd swapped the dress he'd sullied for a pair of tight black pants and heels. She'd slipped on a cropped sweater to guard against the chilly evening and sparkly teardrops hung from her ears.

He took a moment to admire the view as she greeted her girlfriends, a couple of whom had arrived after he left her to her nap, then stood to get his own greeting in. Carl beat him to it, though, rushing her as soon as she'd made it to the living room. She smiled at Rick and Judith from across the room while Carl pulled her over to the small table by the window where he and the other boys were showing off their comic book collections.

Rick smiled back, using the hand he had tucked under Judith's bottom to give her a thumbs up at their current kid assignments. He reclaimed his stool, and his place in the conversation, keeping an appreciative eye on her as she moved about the room. Michonne was usually the sentimental one, but he couldn't help reflecting on the way he'd found himself drawn to her in a new way for the first time in this very room. He remembered it like it was yesterday, the way she had seemed to glow all of a sudden and he had been pulled from his seat and across the room just to be closer to her. He wasn't kidding when he'd said he owed Mike a debt of gratitude for helping him come to that realization. He told Michonne once that he was never jealous of the man's obvious affection toward her that weekend, and it was true, jealous wasn't the right word. It was more that he had become so dependant on her light that the thought of sharing it had scared him enough to use it to see things more clearly. Now he could be close to her anytime he wanted, and standing there holding their child, watching her practically re-enact the entire event, was enough to make him want to rush the night to end and go back to being wrapped around each other in the bunk again. They were celebrating though, and he settled for holding his baby girl and watching her from afar, while he enjoyed the company of his closest friends.

"Rick!" Daryl said, throwing an elbow into his side to beckon him back to the conversation.

"Sorry," he replied. "What?"

"I asked if you were gonna loosen up the dress code now that you're in charge," Daryl repeated, chuckling at the dreamy look on his friend and new boss's face.

Rick eyed Daryl's increasingly shaggy mane and the sparse scruff that was sprouting on his unshaven chin. "Don't count on it," he answered.

…

After dinner the group had split up into smaller factions, settling into more intimate conversations as they allowed the meal to digest. The wet snow and drizzle that had been coming down since the car ride kept them all indoors, and the group of kids, made up of Carl, and Abraham's sons, as well Tyreese's daughter Lizzy, had claimed the game room as their own for at least the early part of the evening. Judith had gone to bed two hours ago and Rick took a seat next to Michonne leaning against the couch in front of the fireplace.

"Think she'll make it to midnight?" Michonne asked, leaning against his shoulder and handing him the little screen that showed Judith, swaddled and fast asleep in the center of the crib.

"I don't know," he said skeptically, glancing at his watch. It was ten o'clock and she was still asleep. A four hour stretch was pushing it for the little one. "But I've got her tonight, Michonne. I want you to take a break and have a good time tonight. She wakes up, I'm on it."

Michonne pat her hand on his thigh with a sleepy smile. "I'm gonna take you up on that," she chuckled. "But I'm really hoping for a midnight kiss, Sheriff, so fingers crossed your daughter gives us a miracle tonight."

"Fingers crossed...but you'll get your kiss either way." He leaned in to press his lips to hers, running his thumb over the high bone of her cheek.

"Alright you two," Maggie said, nudging Rick with her foot as she walked by to turn up the stereo. "Card game's starting at the table. Get over there and tell Abe to deal you in."

"Yes ma'am," Rick replied as he stood and offered Michonne his hand. They made their way into the kitchen where it seemed the real party was getting started, with Glenn and Tara pouring drinks and Abe directing everyone to their spots. Rick pulled out a chair for Michonne, then went to the kitchen island to get a refill from Glenn. Just as he set his glass on the counter, he heard the tell tale whines coming from the little monitor he held in his other hand. Sure enough, Judith was ready for her own beverage. He sighed, setting his glass in the sink instead, and reaching into the fridge for a bottle of formula.

"That's my cue," he said, breaking the news to Michonne by handing her the monitor. He kissed her one more time, knowing it was probably for the night. Once he got settled in the dark bunk room, rocking Judy back to sleep, he would be down for the count himself.

Michonne stood to hug him goodbye, disappointed to see him go, despite having fully expected that one of them would be ringing in the new year with Judy this year. "You're sure you don't want me to go?"

"Have fun," he whispered into her ear with a squeeze of her shoulder. "You've earned a night off."

"We'll take good care of her," Andrea smirked, eavesdropping on their conversation. She pulled her friend by the arm, ushering her back to the table and he rolled his eyes, heading for the door.

…

The next morning Michonne woke next to a still sleeping Rick, his bare back and shoulders rising and falling with peaceful breaths. She sat up as best she could on the bottom bunk, stretching her arms behind her back, then rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Judith was blissfully snoozing in her crib, and the room was silent except for their alternating snores. She swung a leg over his waist and felt around for the floor with her toes, stretching as best she could to sneak out of the bed without waking him. Judy had refused to do any magic the night before, and Rick had kept his promise to handle all wakeups, so now she was intent on letting him sleep in. She finally made it over the hump of his sleeping form and tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly so she could hear her daughter stir.

Her bladder was ready to burst after a full night's sleep and she picked up her pace as she made her way down the hall to the bathroom.

Rick woke as soon as Michonne's warmth left the bed and he watched her with one eye squinted open, as she crept out of the room. He could hear the bathroom door shut, and just as he had been awakened by the lack of Michonne's presence, Judy also began to fuss. He shushed her quietly, so she wouldn't bring Michonne rushing back, and lifted her from the crib, bouncing her in his arms until she began to smile.

"Hey Judy," he smiled. "Good to see you again. You and me had a lot of time together last night, didn't we?" He placed her against his chest and kissed the top of her head, thankful that he had nothing on the agenda this New Year's Day that would require any semblance of clear thinking, besides maybe a repeat football game. He hovered in the threshold waiting for Michonne to come back, but she seemed to be taking her time. She was probably brushing her teeth, he decided, passing a few more minutes of waiting by having a one sided conversation with the infant in his arms. After awhile, he began to worry and padded down the hall himself to check on her.

He knocked on the bathroom door, lightly. "Chonne," he called. "You alright?"

He heard the water start to run and he opened the door slowly, revealing her hunched over the sink, splashing water on her eyes.

"You really took me up on that offer," he smiled sympathetically, entering the little room and shifting Judy so he could place a hand on Michonne's back. "Have a little too much fun after I went to bed?"

"I didn't," she said, drying her eyes with a hand towel and looking back at him despondently. "I passed out on the couch before midnight and they sent me to bed after the countdown. I barely finished a whole glass of champagne."

"You think you're comin' down with something?" he asked, instinctively covering Judith's head with his hand.

Before she could answer, she was on her knees again, retching violently into the toilet. "Hold on," he said, backing out of the bathroom and searching the hallway for any other signs of life. He could hear Shane's voice from the bottom of the stairs and he walked to the landing, calling down to his friend.

Shane and Andrea both came to the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him, slightly startled by the urgency in his voice.

"Can you take Judy for a minute?" he asked, trotting halfway down the staircase to hand her off.

"Of course!" Andrea took the baby from him, with Shane right behind her.

"Everything okay?" he asked, eyeing his friend.

"Yeah. I'll be right back," Rick called over his shoulder as he hurried back to his wife. "Hey," he said as he came back into the bathroom and knelt beside her.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she said, wiping at her watery eyes. "I felt fine when I woke up, then I started smelling coffee brewing downstairs and all of a sudden I was heaving up my dinner."

Rick looked at her wide eyed, his mouth parted as if he was searching for words that wouldn't come.

"What?" she asked, not understanding the look that had taken over his face.

"Michonne…"

"What, Rick?" she said, before spinning back toward the toilet and dry heaving hard enough to send tears streaming down her cheeks. "Maybe it was something I ate," she said when she had caught her breath again, but the sentence trailed off into nothing as he continued to stare at her. "You don't think…"

"Could you be?" he asked, and her eyes darted to the ceiling as she did a quick math equation in her head.

"I guess I was technically due today," she said, "but everything has been screwed up since I stopped the shots and pills and all of that."

Rick's mouth curled up in a grin that he couldn't contain as she tried to make sense of all of the information at her disposal.

"Don't get excited, Rick," she warned. "It's highly un…" A wave of nausea hit her again and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. It seemed to be a false alarm, though, and he gathered her into his arms, kissing her forehead, which had started to bead with sweat. "This is insane," she muttered, shaking her head at the idea. It couldn't be.

"You have any tests stashed away?" he asked. "In the car or your luggage?"

She shook again, then rested her head on his shoulder.

"I can go into town," he said. He rubbed at her back as she took a small reprieve in his arms.

"I'm scared to find out," she said with a nervous laugh.

"You're gonna find out one way or another," he said, his smile persisting. "Might as well not drive yourself crazy."

She had to agree with his logic, so she released the hold she had on him and nodded.

"I'm gonna get Judy settled with a bottle and one of the girls. You get back in bed and I'll be back in a while."

"Ok," she agreed, turning to rinse her mouth out one more time as he went to put some clothes on.

After getting properly dressed, he ferried Judith over to the main building so he could get Carl to assist in watching her. Sasha greeted him in the kitchen and offered him some toast from the pile she was stacking on a plate.

"Sasha, I have to run an errand," he said, handing the baby to Carl who looked like he had just stumbled out of bed. "Do you mind helping Carl with Judy?"

"Of course," she smiled. "Michonne still sleeping?"

"She isn't feeling well, actually." He grabbed his coat and car keys from the hook where he had left them the day before, and kissed Judy on the top of the head.

"She didn't look so hot last night," Sasha said, her concern heightening when she saw Rick's nervous expression. "She slept through the whole party."

"Yeah, she's resting now too. I won't be long." He turned to head down the stairs and when he got to the door, he felt Sasha right on his heels.

"Rick," she said, pressing a hand to his elbow to stop him just outside of the building. Rick turned to her in confusion; he thought he had conveyed the urgency of the situation. "I didn't want to ask her last night, but I couldn't help but wonder...with her symptoms…"

Rick eyed their friend, unsure if Michonne would appreciate him speaking freely about the situation, no matter what the test said. "She thinks it might be something she ate," he lied, erring on the side of caution.

"Ok," Sasha said, her hands in the air in acceptance. "But...I might be able to save you a trip." She waved him over to her little, red sports car, opening the trunk. "I have my med kit from work in here. Always have it on me." She began rummaging through the little nylon bag, as Rick stood behind her, cautiously optimistic that they were on the same page and she really could save him some time. Sasha handed him a blister pack of anti-nausea pills, a fever reducer and a thermometer with a disposable cap.

Rick took the items, with a nod of thanks and disappointment in his eyes, as he tried to figure out how he was till going to get in his car and leave without raising suspicion. Sasha, however, offered a mischievous grin and dug into the bag one more time. She reached in and then turned to face him with two little sticks, wrapped in pink plastic, displayed like a bouquet of roses in her hand. He chuckled at the game they were playing, and swiped the tests out of her hand, taking off for the bunk house. "You got Judy?" he asked, halfway across the driveway.

"I'm on it. You go."

When he was back on the second floor, he found Michonne exactly where he had left her, on the bathroom floor instead of tucked in bed as he'd hoped.

"Are the kids ok?" she asked, her head resting on her arm that was propped on her knee.

"Everyone's fine."

"That was quick," she said as he knelt down beside her and handed her one of the pregnancy tests.

"Sasha," he explained. "I didn't tell her, she just...knew."

Michonne took the stick from him, unwrapping it carefully, then gave him a look which he clearly understood as his cue to step outside while she followed the instructions.

A few minutes later, she opened the door to let him back in and they both slid back down to the floor, leaning against the shower stall to wait.

"We're both hoping for the same thing, right?" he asked, after a few moments of nervous silence.

Michonne took his hand and pulled it into her lap, stroking her thumb across his palm. "Have we ever not been?" she asked, staring up at him.

A tiny beep began to sound from Rick's wrist watch, and they both looked at each other with excitement and the unease that had become a like a Pavlovian response from the many times they'd been in this position.

"Will you look at it?" she said, a plaintive smile spreading across quivering lips. Judith had made all her dreams come true and now she felt almost guilty for hoping for any more blessings in her life. She remembered Rebeccah's tale of raising two babies so close in age, however, and she thought maybe her dues would be paid either way.

Rick stretched across the little bathroom, pulling the test down from where she'd set it on the counter and he leaned in to kiss her cheek one time, before holding it up to his face. She dropped her head to his shoulder, afraid to look, afraid to hope, and he pulled his eyes away from her slowly to squint at the tiny display. "Michonne..." he said.

She refused to pick her head up, though she could swear she could hear the answer in his voice. It was too much though, she couldn't look.

"Michonne," he said again, wrapping his arm around her and burying his face in her hair. "Baby, look at it."

"Just tell me," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

He laughed quietly, then swallowed hard to clear his voice before it cracked on him. "It's a good thing we painted the nursery green," he said, and he felt her pull in a gasp. "Cause I think this one is gonna be a boy."

Michonne clutched at Rick's shirt and began to cry softly into his chest, her shoulders shaking with happy sobs as his vibrated with quiet laughter.

"You ok?" he asked, peeling her away so he could look at her tear streaked face. "You're happy?"

"I'm so happy," she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Rick pushed her hair out of her face and she suddenly lunged for the toilet again, stretching her body to just barely make it. After a few minutes of gagging, she sat back up and laughed. "I feel like shit," she said. "But I'm happy."

Rick stood and gathered a washcloth from a basket beside the shower, wetting it with cool water from the faucet. "Me too," he said, as he wiped it along her brow. "This place is good luck. We should come here every year."

She laughed at his observation, sinking back down to her bottom. "Rick," she said, "now that we know I don't have the flu, do you think you can go get Judy and Carl? I want us all to be together right now."

Rick grinned at her, crumpled in the corner and sick as a dog, yet still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "I'll get them," he said. "They're gonna wanna hear this news from their mom."

To be continued...


End file.
